A Kettle of Hawks
by Rennie1265
Summary: Norrington and Jack Sparrow find some common ground, mutual enemies. Adventures and mayhem, drama and humour follow. Please R
1. A Playful Zephyr

A Kettle of Hawks  
  
Disclaimer: Recognizable characters belong to the Mouse. Strictly for fun, no profit is involved. Not beta'd. This is my first attempt at a longer story. Constructive comments welcome; flames will be laughed at and sent to the compost heap. The title comes from a term for a group of hawks, if anyone is curious.

Chapter One  
  
Ah, Port Royal in the eventide. It was a quiet mannerly place, at least inland away from the harbour, quite unlike a lively haunt such as Tortuga, favoured of pirates, thieves and others of ill-repute. Even so, amusement could be found through determined perseverance. One such dedicated seeker toddled along, keeping to the byways and shadows; after all, it would not do to draw undue attention to a neck the Crown wished to stretch. It was a roguish figure, with a peculiar uneven gait. A kindly person would consider the walk more reminiscent of the sea than terra firma; one less kind would assume a proclivity for strong drink or other tastes. A keen observer might also have noted a faint musical jingle and a raspy, not so musical, singing accompanying the figure as it minced by.  
  
The dark garbed man came to a halt by the former establishment of the blacksmith Brown, the sign overhead now proclaiming the services of Wm Turner, Swordsmith. The clash of swordplay and laughter inside drew his attention and he tilted his head curiously as he listened. He paused to refresh himself from a bottle hauled out from a capacious pocket in his worn justaucorps coat, adding the sweet fumes of fine rum to the odours of the lane. Carefully stowing the bottle away against future need, the slender man swayed up to peer through the gap in the shutter, hoping to find something to entertain him on a dull winter's night.  
  
The inquisitive brown eye swept across the interior of the smithy. The space was fairly well lit with lanterns, candles and the fire in the forge, the light concentrated around the open space in the middle of the smithy floor. The smith's donkey was not at its work station, likely in its shed for the night, but there were other figures to catch the roving glance. At the rear, perched out of harm's way on the steps leading to the quarters upstairs, was a tall fair young woman merrily calling out encouragement and advice equally to one or the other of the two at swordplay below her vantage point. It appeared the Governor's headstrong daughter had slipped her jesses again.  
  
The watcher then turned his discerning eye upon the two combatants. The younger of the two was facing the street entrance, easily recognizable as the proprietor of said establishment, his curling light brown hair and quick distinctive movements perfectly familiar to the man outside. The other figure, with his back to the observer, was some years older and taller than Turner, with straight dark hair falling messily out of its lacing at the nape of his neck. Both were in breeches and shirt sleeves and sweat soaked as they fenced and played, intense concentration clearly evident in each form. The ringing clash and hiss of the fine blades accompanied the flashes of light glinting from the steel as the swordsmen practiced their elegant craft, along with the laughter and taunts to be found between friends. They paused and the older man demonstrated a point of technique while Will and Elizabeth both watched closely then Will repeated the action several times with an added variation of his own. Satisfied, the men faced each other and put the moves into execution.  
  
Outside, the observer's curiosity won out over common sense and he slipped along to the rear of the building, making his way in through the back entrance to the upper quarters. He stealthily crept down the stairs to join Elizabeth, first drawing her attention so as not to startle her, and grinned broadly in greeting, the light catching on a couple of gold teeth only partly obscured by the finger held to his lips requesting her silence. She smiled back at him in surprised welcome then her eyes opened wide in shocked consternation as a possible outcome of his unexpected arrival occurred to her. She rolled her eyes and jerked her head slightly several times to direct his attention to the men on the smithy floor. He obeyed her direction but was unable to understand her concern at first, raising an eyebrow in query. The lass's concern abruptly became clear when the elegant clipped tones of the warm baritone voice triggered the memory of a tall man, a white wig and a fancy brocaded blue uniform, along with a truly nasty memory of a hempen cravat and a sudden drop.  
  
Jack's dark rimmed eyes opened very wide as he looked more closely at Will's fencing partner and recognized in disbelief one of the most notorious pirate hunters in the Caribbees. He kept very still and quiet as he and Elizabeth watched the practice continue. Jack had already tested himself against Will's prowess and had wondered where the whelp had learned the formal elements of swordplay; the boast of three hours of daily practice did not explain satisfactorily the young man's grasp of classic technique. Of a certainty, it could not have been Master Brown, the smith, a man more at home with a bottle than a fine blade. Jack's fight had been in the treasure cavern with Barbossa and he had not witnessed Norrington battle the undead pirates aboard the Dauntless. Intrigued, he watched the quality of swordplay and recognized some of Will's style in the Commodore; this must be one of those who had taught the boy how to use a sword. The why of it escaped Jack for the moment, what reason would a well-born ambitious naval officer have to teach an orphan boy the finer points of fencing?  
  
Norrington's fencing was another surprise to Sparrow. He would have thought the officer would use a rigid, unimaginative style, as stodgy and stiff as the uniform he wore. Instead the man's formal training was evident but his rapid adjustment to obstacles and use of terrain and serendipitous objects was far more useful in the real world. He did not indulge in the acrobatics that had had both Jack and Will tripping merrily along the rafters overhead but was agile enough for all that. Jack recognized elements of the newer French style as well as the classic Italian school, the latter form emphasized the down and dirty practical fighting for survival sword work, not just pretty posturing. Not merely a pretty figure then in fancy plumage but a veteran of many skirmishes at sea and on land, the naval man was formidable. Jack felt a growing itch to try Norrington's mettle for himself, not the wisest of temptations given his past experience with the man.  
  
Thoughtfully stroking his beard braids, Jack considered the man who had so nearly succeeded in hanging him, save for the intervention of the two young persons in the smithy. The Commodore was a good man, evidenced by his releasing the fair Elizabeth to follow her heart even though it would break his own. His tolerance of the whole farce of Jack's escapes and hanging, the generosity to allow a condemned pirate a day's grace before resuming pursuit, even the kindness shown to Will afterward all bespoke a depth of character that intrigued Sparrow. Jack had to admit to himself that Norrington's dry sardonic humour was also entertaining, when circumstance permitted the indulgence.  
  
The spectacle of the figures at loose play fascinated Jack and at a lull in the action, to Elizabeth's horror, he coughed loudly enough to draw the attention of both men below. When Will glanced over, his sweating face showed outright shock at their visitor's identity and he looked to the Commodore, hurriedly preparing to block him from attacking Sparrow. Norrington's reaction was more restrained but he had a dilemma of his own to address. His initial impulse was to go after the outlaw who had escaped him but he realized how impolite it would be to lose two friends by trying to slaughter their damned pet pirate under Will's own roof.  
  
The tableau was held for several moments as four minds rapidly ran through possible solutions, actions, or disastrous outcomes. The Commodore looked at the expressions on the two young faces then met Sparrow's gaze as he too finished inspecting Will and Elizabeth. Their eyes held. Jack's face broke out into a wicked sly grin as he bobbed his brows and quirked his eyes, luminous against the kohl, at the young lovers. Norrington was able to maintain a suitably stoic visage but his eyes revealed his appreciation of the absurdity of the situation, the crow's feet at their corners crinkling deeper.  
  
Taking Norrington's restraint for tacit encouragement, Jack stood and sashayed down to the dirt floor, not so fast that he would startle the wary naval man into action. Watching Norrington's eyes intently for signs of reaction hazardous to his person, Jack stepped up so that he was a bit behind Will's left side, keeping him as a potential shield, and pressed his palms together, bowing gracefully in an oriental fashion. Will remained tense with surprise and indecision. Norrington stood calmly during all this, his sword held point down, making no comment other than to raise a brow in gentle inquiry.  
  
"Your pardons, Commodore, and Young Bootstrap, for interrupting your practice this fine evening. I was merely coming by to see a man about a sword and chanced to hear something what intrigued me and couldn't resist 'aving a little look-see... you see," Jack explained. "When I observed the whelp was practicin' his fine swordplay, with the fair Elizabeth shouting advice, I wished to see who was doin' the honours, as it were. I know Will here told me 'bout practicin' three hours a day, unbelievable as that did seem, but he never said who had taught him as it was clear to me that some one, or some ones, had."  
  
"So you think you know, do you, Sparrow?"  
  
"Captain Sparrow, if you will. After all, I do have my pretty Pearl back so there's no need to be discourteous, Commodore."  
  
By this time, Elizabeth had joined them, flanking Jack on the other side. She and Will exchanged rapid looks and both turned to Norrington to plead for Jack's safety. The tall man looked down his nose at the picture the three of them made, the two worried faces with the puckish visage of Jack Sparrow peeking out mischievously as disjointed sentences flew about. Norrington's lively sense of the ridiculous could not be held back any longer; the corner of his mouth quivered against his best efforts to prevent it. Turning aside to conceal his smirk whilst he regained control of his face, he took out a piece of cloth from his pocket and studiously wiped down his blade as he inspected it for damage. He looked up from under his brow at the bemused expressions of his two young friends. Jack caught Norrington's glance and easily discerned the laughter lurking there and winked conspiratorially, both men beginning to chuckle. They laughed outright as Elizabeth and Will looked first at each other, then at them, matching expressions of confusion on each countenance. Relieved, the young pair relaxed though still uncertain how events would unfold.  
  
"James," Elizabeth asked, "for this evening, would you just be yourself, not the Commodore or the Great Pirate Hunter? You are both our friends and we would not see either harmed, especially here."  
  
"Yes, James, after all you did give Jack a day's head start when he fell off the fort's wall. He's not raided an English settlement or taken an English ship, just the French and Spanish and others, since then. He did what he could to stop the undead pirates and remove the curse, even if he was not able to prevent the attack on the Dauntless that night." Will added his share to the argument for clemency. "Both of you are good men and there's no reason to try to kill each other tonight. Jack's just come by to pick up the sword he commissioned a while back and then he'll be on his way and out of Port Royal."  
  
Jack raised a rather grubby finger to draw their attention. "For the record, I _jumped_ off the wall of the fort that day. Jumped. I did _not_ fall. After all, I am Captain Jack Sparrow. Please be remembering that, eh?"  
  
"As if anyone would be allowed to forget," Norrington sniped back. Jack drew his brows down at him in reproof. Elizabeth tried to hide a snicker behind her hand but Jack saw it anyway and frowned at her for good measure. Will snorted at the comment, drawing his own rebuke from the offended pirate.  
  
"Should I agree to this outlandish notion and forget for tonight that Sparrow is an escaped felon and neglect my duty to bring him to his appointment with the hangman, what do I get for my part of the bargain?" Norrington inquired, meeting Jack's eyes directly while he waited for an answer.  
  
"Ah, a parley is it? "Jack asked brightly.  
  
"So it would seem," Norrington answered primly.  
  
Negotiations were good, the pirate thought to himself. As long as they were talking and arranging suitable terms, Norrington was not going to be attempting a certain pirate's sudden demise. To demonstrate his good will, Jack rooted around deeply into his pocket and brought his rum bottle to light again, sensibly keeping it away from the lassie. He did not entirely trust her so near to his precious rum, considering his previous experience with her; the forge had a good fire burning in it and was far too close for his peace of mind.  
  
Norrington looked down at the bottle, then up at Jack, remarking dryly, "You could at least have brought some decent brandy, considering you were coming to visit a civilized town. One would think that you would have been able to acquire some from at least one of the French ships you've taken lately. Surely they at least would have something aboard fit to drink."  
  
Looking affronted at this commentary on his pirating ability, Jack refrained from answering the insult immediately. He had in fact taken some very fine brandy off a French sloop not a month back but he saw no need to mention this minor detail. Lurching in to Norrington's personal space, Jack smiled engagingly up at the taller man, saying, "I'm surprised at you, Commodore, you being a naval man here in Jamaica itself, source of the finest rum to be had. Rum is a sailor's proper drink, or a proper sailor's drink, as well you know for under all that weight of wig and braid, you are a proper sailor." Jack's hands fluttered about in descriptive counterpoint to his speech.  
  
"That almost sounded like a compliment, Captain Sparrow. Are you certain you are feeling quite well tonight?" Norrington inquired wryly, if not altogether solicitously.  
  
"Perfectly fit; in fact, never felt better. Thank you for asking. A lovely new sword all for me own self, good friends and entertaining sport. What more could a man wish for, eh, save perhaps an opportunity to try out said new sword in good company?"  
  
"Hm, it would appear you consider me to be entertaining sport, do you? We certainly do not qualify as good friends."  
  
"Perhaps not good friends, yet, but I do consider the company good. I've not forgot the head start you gave me that day at the fort nor have I forgot how you and your men fought Barbossa's crew that night on your Dauntless, or at what cost. Had it not been for you, the Black Pearl would have been much harder to save from that cursed crew. Had it not been for you, the whelp and the spitfire here would not have been able to follow their hearts."  
  
Jack's serious words had stripped the humour from the faces of all three of his audience. Norrington in particular understood the underlying message of what had been said, an acknowledgement of action and loss and gratitude. His vivid green eyes held Jack's dark amber ones in a penetrating gaze for a long moment, while each man contemplated the other then he nodded, accepting the pirate captain's words.  
  
"I suppose, under the circumstances, that I shall have to rein in my natural inclinations and permit you an evening's visit."  
  
"That would be most kind of you, Commodore. It's not often that I can get in for a visit."  
  
"Surely that is something of a mis-statement, Sparrow; you seem to come and go in Port Royal as you please, despite all our efforts to keep the undesirables out of the town."  
  
"Commodore Norrington, if you cannot manage the Captain, p'rhaps you should just call me Jack and be done with it," Jack sighed, growing tired of the constant reminders. "We are attempting to have a parley here and the night is not getting any younger. I propose that we four of us have a nice simple evening between friends. No pirates. No Commodores. No soldiers. Just a pleasant opportunity to visit and play with Will's pretty swords." Jack looked up at Norrington, hiking his brows in inquiry nearly to the faded red head scarf, hopeful that the man who could forgive the two young people the heartbreak they had caused and become close friends with them could find a little faith for a pirate who was also a good man.  
  
Norrington looked over the three sets of brown eyes, all three abruptly reminding him of puppies with their innocent (well, one not so innocent) and hopeful expressions. He came to a sudden realisation that he was enjoying himself far too much this evening and actually wanted to try out Sparrow's expertise for himself. He had heard about the battle in the treasure cavern but had not seen the pirate in action with a sword. The escapes from the dock and the gallows and the brazen thievery of his fastest vessel had shown Sparrow to be a man with a quick intelligence and an apparent lack of the brutality shown by most common pirates. Yes, Jack Sparrow was indeed an uncommon pirate, if a confounded pest and Norrington deemed he was owed something for the theft and subsequent loss of the Interceptor. He smiled benignly at the trio, raising a somewhat leery grimace on Sparrow's bronzed face and tentative smiles to the more trusting faces of Elizabeth and Will.  
  
"Very well, Jack, we will keep this evening between friends, as it were. Tomorrow noon then we will return to business as customary."  
  
"Thank you kindly, Commodore. I was sure you had it in you, if only to satisfy your own curiosity. Must admit I hoped you wouldn't go trying to slaughter me in front of our young friends here. Now that we've an accord here for tonight, how about a bit of practice with the blades? You must have wondered what it would be like to cross swords with Captain Jack Sparrow, eh?" Jack asked, arms gesticulating extravagantly, causing Norrington to ease back out of harm's way.  
  
"I'll admit curiosity, certainly. I've only heard descriptions of your prowess from Will and it's always useful to find a new opponent to practice against. One never knows when the knowledge will prove beneficial," Norrington commented straight-faced, looking at Jack pointedly as he spoke.  
  
Jack stared back at Norrington, running over possible meanings to the last sentence, not entirely sure that the naval officer was jesting or if he was serious. The Navy man was proving to have a wicked sly sense of humour but the difficulty was in determining when the man was employing said humour. Jack decided that the man was having him on and glanced over to the children to see what their reactions were. Elizabeth was hiding her mouth behind her hand, a muffled giggle escaping; Will didn't even bother to try to disguise his laughter, chuckling at the exchange between his two unlikely friends.  
  
Stepping back to the stairs, Jack removed his baldric, sword hanger and scabbard, his coat, and silver-mounted pistol, piling them neatly on a step and crowned the heap with his beloved battered old leather tricorn hat. The rum bottle was carefully set down beside them, not without a cautionary look and gesture with a long forefinger to Miss Swann to keep her distance from the rum. Now unencumbered from restrictions to free movement he took his place across from Norrington in the open space on the floor. He began to raise his sword in a salute when the Commodore looked at the old blade and inquired politely, "Was not the purpose of this visit to take delivery of your new sword, Sparrow? If so, would you not prefer to use it instead of your present weapon?"  
  
Jack halted, opened his mouth to remind the man yet again regarding his proper title then shut it, realizing he was correct. He had come to pick up his new Turner blade. Turning to Will, Jack said, "He has the right of it, William. You did say that it would be ready by this date and really, would you have let me fence against the blade you made for the Commodore without my own fine new sword?"  
  
Will shook his head in disbelief, grinned and went to fetch Jack's new blade. He brought it over and slipped it out of its sheath and displayed the superb craftsmanship to the others. The blade was of a similar pattern to Jack's old sword but made for his particular hand and reach. The basket guard had enough substance to protect the hand but without excessive projections which could catch at inopportune moments. There was sufficient gold filigree inlaid into the guard to please a pirate captain, the initials J S done in an elegant arabesque with a chasing showing a sparrow in flight over the waves above the lettering. The handle was wrapped with shagreen and gold wire for a secure grip and finished with a large cabochon sapphire set deeply into the pommel, the star's rays within catching the light. The scabbard was rather plain but well-made of quality materials, a tasteful silver mount extending the guard's design part way down the dark wood shaft and completed with the matching end piece..  
  
Jack took up his new sword in his right hand and compared it side by side to his old blade held in his left. The old sword had been a true companion for many years, its fine Toledo steel a testament to the sword makers of Spain and the skills that had come from Damascus and far away India centuries before. The old sword was of a plainer design and he would not forsake it altogether. The balance of the new sword in his hand was even better than the other; after all it had been made for him alone. Well pleased, Jack moved back a bit and gave several thrusts and parries with it and finished with a flourish, a broad smile glinting silver and gold in pleasure at his new acquisition, resting the blade over his shoulder. Will and Elizabeth looked very pleased with themselves at their friend's smugly satisfied expression; even the Commodore let his humour show with a quirk of a smile at the disreputable pirate's antics.  
  
"You need to have the rest of the furnishings to go with it, after all, it is a Turner blade befitting the Captain of the Black Pearl," Elizabeth stated as she brought forward the new baldric and hanger to go with the sword, both in fine well-oiled black leather. Jack stroked the leather in sheer delight, the new sword and accoutrements had been well worth the cost and the risk of coming in to enemy territory under the very noses of the Royal Navy. He held out his new sword and Will pointed out some of the differences between Jack's blade and the one he had made for James. The two blades were similar, sturdy enough for life and death battles on a ship but finished with a refinement suitable for dress occasions. Each owner was well satisfied with his custom sword and admired the master craftsmanship that had created it.  
  
Stepping into the open area of the floor, Jack beckoned to the Commodore to join him. Norrington smiled in anticipation. He had had a bit of a breather so he was ready to try out Jack's prowess for himself. He took his position the correct distance away from Jack and took a ready stance.  
  
"Before you begin, Jack, James, we should establish the rules of engagement here. No killing. No serious wounding. Try not to injure each other. Those blades are not practice ones and they are both well sharpened. This is for pleasure only, so please don't forget yourselves and fight for real. If you think that you won't be able to restrain yourselves, I have practice blunted blades over in the rack." Will wanted everyone to be absolutely clear on these points and he waited until each man acknowledged the conditions he set. Elizabeth seconded him and first Jack, then James, gave his consent to her as well. The young people stepped back and found places to sit that were close enough to see well but would be out of harm's way.  
  
Jack grinned cheekily and drew himself up into a formal posture, intriguing James who loved the dance of the swords as well. The Commodore moved into position, mirroring Jack and they saluted each other and engaged. Testing each other cautiously at first, the men followed the circle taught in the classic forms, their formal training showing clearly. Stepping with deliberate precision, move and counter move, they worked through several series, watching each other like the hawks they both were. Each man's eyes were alight with gleeful delight at finding a kindred love for the sword in the other, both quite happy to suspend their customary enmity for the time being. They were evenly matched; James' longer reach compensated for by Jack's quickness and more flashy style.  
  
As they became more familiar with each other, James noted that his opponent had set aside his customary drunken sway and slightly mad gestures and was now focused on the task at hand. Jack's typical flamboyance had been abandoned for the more structured style of the ecole. His shoulders were properly squared, posture was correct and the footwork was neatly executed. Will's latest masterpiece was controlled by Jack's wrist and forearm, totally unlike the usual hacking methods employed by the majority of pirates. Fascinated, James began to test Jack's training with moves from his own schooling, his eyes intent on seeking clues to the puzzle the pirate presented.  
  
Jack parried and counter-thrust James' attack and feinted to his left to draw the other open. James did not fall for the ploy and made his own rapid series of cuts. The swords met, sang and hissed as the two swordsmen pushed each other back and forth across the smithy floor. Both fencers were careful to avoid blows that would harm, neither forgetting in their enthusiasm that the blades they fought with could deal lethal strikes. High ward, low ward, thrust, parry and riposte, feint and lunge, each countered the other's moves with precision, increasing speed as they became more familiar with each other.  
  
Breathing harder, the swordsmen stepped back and saluted, ending this initial bout, a look of satisfaction on each sweating visage. Elizabeth and Will applauded, relieved that their two so disparate friends could meet on common ground.  
  
"Thank you for your approval, you two," Jack responded, panting. "That's the best round I've had since I last practiced with you, Will. The Commodore here is a cut above the usual run of Navy types."  
  
"Good Lord, Jack, a second compliment in one night? This should be recorded for posterity, though it escapes me precisely where one would make such an entry." Norrington could not resist jibing the pirate, in between a few gulps of water. "By the by, it seems appropriate if you would call me by my name. I think we can leave the Commodore out of this evening's activities," Norrington suggested to his unorthodox fencing partner.  
  
"Why, thank you, James. I'm perfectly happy to leave the Commodore and his stiff neck out of such a pleasant evening," Jack wasted no time in taking advantage of the offer and teasing the Navy man to boot. Norrington merely raised his brow in silent commentary at Jack's comment, a hint of unexpected mischief lurking deeply in the green eyes.  
  
Will had wondered where Jack acquired his skills; it was uncommon enough for pirates to use a sword to do other than chop away at anything in reach. When they had first fought a year ago, Will had not appreciated then how unlikely it was for Sparrow to use such formal techniques. His curiosity grew and when the two men had paused for a breather, Will asked his piratical friend where he had learned to fight in such a fashion.  
  
"Oh, over the hills and far away, whelp," Jack avoided answering directly. "I picked up a bit here and a bit there. There are a great many men out there bigger and stronger than I am so I had to learn to use whatever I could to gain the advantage." Jack's attention was on his new sword as he inspected it after its inaugural use, satisfied to find it sound.  
  
"That doesn't explain the styles you were using, Jack," Will replied, "I know I picked up quite a bit from some of the officers here at the fort and from whatever fencing master I could find whenever I had any money to pay for lessons. James took an interest when I was just a boy, after they had rescued me from the explosion that destroyed the ship I was coming out from England on. He helped find me a place with Mr. Brown so that I could learn a trade."  
  
"At first I wanted to learn to use a sword so that I could kill the pirates that had killed my father, at least as my mother told me. Then I wanted to learn how to make the best blades that I could to kill them with. James started me out and then encouraged me to practice with any others that I could, to experience other styles and opponents, both the good ones and those not so skilled. Since Barbossa and the cursed pirates, James and I have begun to practice together again, when his duties permit time away. It's quite different practicing with him now than when I was a lad, and I've learned to appreciate the privilege more."  
  
"The thing is, Jack, I've picked up a lot of my instruction from the people here at Port Royal and practiced every day with only one thought in mind all that time; your style though is different tonight than I remember it when you fought Barbossa in the cavern. In fact, you and James seem more alike in your fencing than ever I would have guessed." Will looked at his extravagant friend speculatively.  
  
Elizabeth had stepped up beside Will whilst he spoke. She too looked at Jack with a good deal of consideration. "It's not just your fencing style that seems to have changed, Jack. When you arrived tonight, you spoke with your usual accent but you appear to have left it behind as well. Just now you sounded much more a gentleman like James or Father, or even some of the officers at the fort. Not at all like your pirate speech we have come to expect. Perhaps I should not be surprised; after all, you did use words like ecumenical and such to Father that day when you escaped the hanging.  
  
During this exchange, Norrington had inspected his sword and sheathed it after wiping it down. He was quite intrigued by the direction the evening was going and more than a little amused at the two on one interrogation that the pirate was being subjected to. Sparrow was an enigma; with all the outrageous stories that circulated about him and his escapades, unearthing any crumb of truth was an advantage in the pursuit. James was content to remain quiet for the nonce, a fly on the wall as it were, as Will and Elizabeth prised answers out of Jack. He really didn't wish to draw attention to himself and break their line of questioning as it progressed. An idle thought crossed his mind as he wondered how much Jack had manipulated the wilder stories from whatever the truth actually was. He knew from reports that some of the tales had basis in fact, but others were as wildly fanciful as their subject. He had noted both the fencing style and the shift in accent and grammar which tallied with his own speculation that Sparrow had had some level of education above the common run of criminal.  
  
As the pair questioned Jack, they moved closer and closer to him until he felt constrained to step back a bit. Relentless, they followed gradually shifting him across the smithy floor until he ran out of retreating room when he backed into the edge of the forge. Swaying back a little, Jack peered up at them in disgruntlement, not at all pleased with the teamwork the courting couple displayed, at least not when they directed it at his person.  
  
Slipping away from his pursuers, Jack sidled around until he had Norrington to shield him. The notion that Jack Sparrow would resort to using the commander of the Jamaican squadron to protect him from the two rash young persons who had saved him from a short drop et cetera tickled James' humour.  
  
In fact, he found it hilarious and tried desperately to keep a straight face, his lips clamped tightly to keep the smile from surfacing. Unfortunately a slight quiver across his shoulders gave the game away and the pirate glared up at his back and huffed in disgust. James made the tactical error of looking around at that moment and was unable to restrain himself any longer, a snort of laughter inexcusably escaping his control. Jack scowled even more fiercely, opened his mouth, drew a deep breath in preparation to give the man a piece of his mind and was wholly disgusted when Norrington lost his battle and began to snicker outright, a broad grin displacing the stern official face Jack was more accustomed to seeing.  
  
"Fine lot of help you are, pride of the King's Navy that you're said to be. I would have expected that you at least would have more decorum than to laugh at a man like this." Jack made his displeasure with Norrington perfectly clear. The Commodore's response to the accusation merely added more fuel to the fire as he sniggered again and drew first the Governor's daughter and then her blacksmith into laughing with him, thus compounding his transgression.  
  
In disdain, Jack stalked over to his effects and took a goodly swig of rum to restore his ruffled sensibilities. The fresh laughter this drew from the trio disgusted Jack so greatly that he plopped down onto the steps and proceeded to sulk, looking for all the world like a sullen tomcat that had had its whiskers pulled.  
  
He had more rum, contemplating his ridiculers as he enjoyed the burn of the lovely stuff down his throat. The three jesters stood shoulder to shoulder across the floor from his perch, enjoying themselves altogether too much at his expense. Jack had not really had a good opportunity to study Norrington when not in uniform and was somewhat surprised to note that the Commodore was quite a bit younger than he had assumed. The wig and braid had worked with the man's customary authoritarian manner to leave an impression of an older man. Tonight the man had relaxed enough to laugh with his friends and belay his pirate hunting nature to fence with one of said pirates. The world was indeed a funny place. 


	2. A Change in the Weather

A Kettle of Hawks

Disclaimer: Recognizable characters belong to the Mouse. Strictly for pleasure, no profit is being made. Not beta'd.

**Chapter Two**

The heavy handed knocking on the smithy door startled the four inside. Will frowned a little for he was not expecting anyone at this hour, aside from the Governor's coachman Jeffers who was not yet due. With both the Commodore and Jack Sparrow under his roof, he could not even begin to hazard a guess as to who was outside. Will glanced at Jack and James, asking a silent question of them. Each man shook his head in negation to the younger man and then looked at each other before starting to move toward the door. Before they had moved more than a couple of steps they heard a masculine voice call out asking for the Commodore.

Norrington looked around at Jack and gestured quickly with his chin, directing the pirate to a shadowy area out of direct sight of anyone standing in the doorway. It was one thing to suspend hostilities for an evening among friends but something else entirely to condone blatantly the presence of a man on whose unkempt head the Crown still maintained warrants.

For once in his life Jack obeyed an order without quarrelling and prudently slipped on quiet cat feet into the relative safety of his dark corner, first making certain to retrieve his effects from where he had deposited them. He was careful to find a position from where he could watch Will and Norrington deal with the situation and still have access to an escape route. Elizabeth moved up to the side of Will opposite to Sparrow's hiding place, in part to provide further distraction from the interior of the forge and to see for her self what transpired.

"Who's there?" Will called out as soon as all were in position.

"We've been sent down from the Fort, Mr. Turner. We've a message to deliver to the Commodore," the reply came from the caller out on the stoop.

Will unlatched the door and swung it open to see the familiar faces of two marines, Murtogg and Mullroy, startling them a bit when they caught sight of the naked sword in his hand. They recovered quickly enough from their surprise; it was not the first time the pair had been sent down to the sword smith's to fetch word to their commanding officer nor the first time that they had interrupted a practice session. They politely greeted Will and Miss Swann, coming to attention and saluting as Norrington stepped up to the entrance.

Norrington acknowledged them, asking, "What message do you have for me?"

"Sir, Captain Stanhope of the Samson has returned to the Fort with reports of attacks on some of the settlements his patrol took him near. We was sent to inform you of his return and request that you return to headquarters at your earliest convenience. Sir," the burly Mullroy answered the Commodore smartly, Murtogg nodding predictably in agreement.

"Did Captain Stanhope give any indication as to who made these attacks or which settlements were hit?" Norrington asked, frowning slightly in displeasure at the news.

He rapidly reviewed in his mind recent reports from the squadron's patrols but was unaware of any such incidents of late. His relentless campaign to eliminate the pirate threat had reduced such attacks drastically over the past several years and he was well aware his own reputation aided in keeping his territory clear. Jack Sparrow might have escaped the noose, abetted by Elizabeth, Will and Weatherby Swann, but he was one of the few exceptions to his tenet that Norrington had seen fit to allow. Sparrow might indeed be the good man the young couple proclaimed but the truth was that most of the pirates had earned in spades their appointments with the Crown's justice.

"We was not given any details, Sir. We was just sent after you, with the officer of the watch's apologies for disturbing your pers'nal affairs," Murtogg answered, trying not to be too obvious peering at his habitually reserved commander dressed in civilian garb, and in his shirt sleeves at that. He was more accustomed to seeing Mr. Turner and Miss Swann clad in such a state as they were at this moment but the Commodore presented an unfamiliar aspect. Even whilst battling the skeleton pirates Norrington had maintained his proper appearance, despite a wound and being soiled with blood splatters and other such muck. It was a bit unsettling though, Murtogg thought to himself, to see the Commodore dressed and behaving like an ordinary citizen. It was almost like something was not quite right in the world.

Norrington caught the expressions on Murtogg's guileless face but did not let his appreciation of the man's open thoughts and their comical aspect show; the time for humour was past this night. His attention now was wholly for the problem that had arisen and to uncover as much information as he could before formulating a strategy to deal with it.

"I see. Wait there for me. I will be heading back directly to the Fort once I have concluded my business here," Norrington ordered crisply and turned away from the men.

Will shut the door on the two inquisitive faces of the marines and took a swift glance around the smithy to see if they could have glimpsed anything out of place. Elizabeth had earlier moved to draw their attention toward her and away from the interior. It had only been a moment or two and Jack's being there would not have been predictable, given the presence of the Commodore and the latter's notoriety for hunting down and exterminating pirates.

Norrington moved swiftly to clean himself up and return his garments to order. He had not worn his uniform this evening so it was a matter of moments to wipe as much sweat off his face and forearms as he could with his handkerchief and to retie his hair back into its knot at the nape of his neck. The neck cloth was no longer fresh so he simply knotted it as neatly as he could, pulled on his plain brown waistcoat and shrugged back into his dark bottle green jacket. Will had checked James' sword, sheathed it again and brought it over for James to buckle the belt around his narrow waist, ensuring the hilt was unobstructed. Elizabeth picked up his tricorn, brushed it quickly with her sleeve to remove any dust and handed it to her old friend to don again. Norrington had no desire to waste further time with trouble developing and he wished to be off as soon as he was able. He kept a spare uniform in his office in the fort and the civilian clothes would suffice him for now.

Whilst the Commodore was restoring his person to a presentable appearance, Jack continued to loiter in his shadowy recess. He mulled over what little he had managed to eavesdrop from the marines, nibbling around a rough cuticle to aid his thought processes. He had not heard anything yet about these raids and was more than a little curious as to the perpetrators. All information was valuable to a successful buccaneer, whether to aid in his own pirating ventures or to keep him alive and away from prisons and their gallows. He would have to begin his own line of enquiry, the sooner the better. This other pirate or pirates looked to be stirring up a hornet's nest and His Majesty's Navy under Norrington would take the business of reprisal very seriously indeed. Not good for honest pirates, not good at all.

When the Commodore was nearly ready to depart, Jack ambled out to make his farewells to his erstwhile fencing associate. Norrington gave him a very searching look, the green eyes no longer warm and mischievous but near as frigid as the northern seas off Labrador. For a moment, Jack met that hard gaze and held it, letting the Navy man see something behind the facade he customarily presented to the world at large, the diversionary tactic of the fluttering hands and swaying body stilled for once.

"For the sake of our young friends here, I would hope that you have had nothing to do with these raids, Sparrow," Norrington stated, the unspoken threat clear to all three listeners. "I had not heard that the Black Pearl was involved in any assaults on British ships or settlements since the demise of Barbossa. On the other hand, however, I have had reports that you have been bedevilling the French, Dutch and Spanish of late." As he spoke, Norrington kept his gaze focused intently on the pirate.

"Aye, and the Portuguese too, for that matter; they've all been most generous in their contributions, Commodore. We don't come into the waters your little Navy guards so possessively very often right now. More profit is to be had elsewhere as you've been so kind as to remove, permanently, so much of the competition. Much obliged to you for that little favour, by the by," Jack smirked reassuringly up at the taller man, reaching up absently to shove some of his beaded braids out of the way.

"Some of the crew have family through the islands hereabouts so we do try to avoid those areas. Fewer conflicts of interest that way, I find; much simpler all around," Jack expounded a little further, for once not troubling to obscure or misdirect the truth.

Norrington continued to watch the pirate while weighing the man's words and manner. Coming to a decision, he proceeded.

"If, by some chance, you happened to...overhear, shall we say... some information concerning these particular raiders, would you be willing to pass it along?" Norrington queried rather circumspectly, curious to see what the capricious pirate's response would be. He had no qualms about making use of the pirate. If Dame Fortune saw fit to give Jack Sparrow into his hands like this, then he would take her gift and not dispute it.

The Commodore knew well the value of any reliable intelligence that could be acquired; he had his own spies in a number of locations but by no means would they be able to gather all the information that he needed. He was absolutely certain without any shadow of doubt that Sparrow had his own network of informants through the islands, including here in Port Royal under his very nose. Norrington was a practical man and had his priorities, even if he was not about to bruit it abroad that he made use of such an unconventional source as Jack Sparrow. Fortunately their past history would lead people away from associating them in anything other than a hostile manner.

For all Sparrow's reputation and outrageous behaviour, it was evident by his actions that he had his own peculiar sense of integrity. It might be possible that Norrington could tap that integrity, if not for the Crown, then for the sake of his friends. The pirate was an intelligent, devious rogue but he had demonstrated a loyalty that had allowed Norrington to come very near to successfully hanging him. The Interceptor episode and others escapades had demonstrated Sparrow's abilities to other than the Commodore as witnessed by the admiration of some of his officers and seamen, The quick thinking, experience and knowledge of the military were unlike any other pirate Norrington could readily bring to mind.

Jack watched Norrington equally closely as he considered what response he wished to give the naval officer. Will and Elizabeth followed their friend's reasoning behind the question. They had asked Jack before why he refused to apply for Letters of Marque from the Governor and had yet to receive a satisfactory answer from the pirate. Jack, however, appreciated more of the puzzle he presented the Commodore than did his young friends. Norrington was no man's fool and was showing a capacity for perception and unpredictability that Jack had to respect, even if he preferred not to fall victim to the King's man, temporary truce notwithstanding.

"All right, Commodore James, if I happen to... overhear...something what could be of interest to you, I might see to it that it reaches friends in Port Royal, say young Mr. Turner here. With the clear understanding that risk to me own Pearl and me crew would be unacceptable. As you asked of me earlier, what would I get for my part of the bargain?" Jack enquired in turn. "I am a pirate, after all is said and done, with a pirate ship and a pirate crew to support and profit is the name of the game. It takes a lot of swag to keep the Pearl at her best."

"I imagine we could find some sort of suitable recompense for you, dependent upon the information received," Norrington answered, "though not on the order of the Isla de Muerta, obviously."

"Very well, Commodore. I will reflect on the situation and your offer. In the meantime, hadn't you best be returning to the Fort? Those two marines out there might not be the sharpest blades in the rack but even they will be getting fidgety if you take too much longer in here," Jack reminded the other man.

Norrington reached out his hand to the pirate to seal their accord. The suspension of hostilities for the evening's play was between Jack and James and required only their mutual agreement; this arrangement required a more formal contract. Jack looked down at the long hand, hard and capable despite the fall of the lace edged ruffle over the wrist, recalling all too vividly when it had been offered to him on the docks that day a year past. Hesitating a little, Jack glanced up at Norrington.

"Now we won't be havin' a repeat of what happened the first time I took your hand, eh? Most unwelcome, that was, mate."

Although their customary predator and prey relationship had been suspended for a few short hours, Jack wanted to ascertain that his personal safety was not endangered unnecessarily; Norrington had a strong grip that Jack remembered all too clearly in his nightmares. Norrington gave a little smile, quirking up the right side of his well shaped mouth.

"The circumstances are rather different now, are they not, Captain Sparrow?"

Acknowledging the pirate's rank deliberately, he reached out to the pirate, again offering his hand. This time, Jack took it and they shook, sealing their agreement. Norrington's palm was calloused from the sword and sea duty, not the hand of an idle man, despite the constraints of his rank. The Commodore looked down at their joined hands, wondering about the heavy ring Jack wore on his index finger and the tattered leather binding around the palm but there was no time left to indulge his interest. Retrieving his hand, Jack placed his palms together and bowed slightly to Norrington in that particular fashion he had.

"Until we meet again, Commodore Norrington."

Norrington returned the pirate's bow with a slight one of his own, nodding once in farewell as Sparrow retreated back into his shadowy corner.

"Elizabeth, Will, my regrets but duty calls as you heard. It has been a most enlightening evening all around," Norrington spared a moment to subtly tease his fellow conspirators, a gleam of humour glinting in his eyes briefly before his face returned to its customary sternness. He took Elizabeth's hand and kissed the back of it lightly, saying, "Good evening, my dear. I expect the Governor's carriage will be coming along soon to take you home."

"I hope the reports are not as bad as they seem, James. It's been some time since anyone has struck at towns in this part of the Caribbean. It was such a pleasant day until this; who would have expected to hear such news tonight," Elizabeth said, a look of concern on her face. She grasped his wrist as he held her hand and released it quickly as they made their farewells, clasping Will's left hand as he moved nearer.

James then shook Will's hand with a sly, "I expect you will have a few loose ends to tidy up tonight so I will leave you to your labours." James gave a quick nod and a smile to his friends and his pirate accomplice and turned away, walking briskly up the stairs to the door, Will following closely behind him.

Will opened the door for the Commodore and he and his fiancée bade the man farewell and watched as he strode off, Murtogg and Mullroy falling in behind him, one of the marines holding up a lantern to light the way. The glow from the smithy's interior cast a glimmer on the pavement for a short distance before being overtaken by the humid gloom of the tropical night. Will shut the door and barred it for security before turning and stepping back down to the floor of the forge to rejoin Elizabeth and Jack.

"Well, what do you think it could be, Jack? Have you not heard anything at all about raiders lately?" Will wasted no time in asking his scandalous friend.

"Not a thing, William. As you heard me tell Norrington, we've been in other waters of late; up in northern waters actually, nasty and cold it was too. I admit though it's set me to wonderin'. The Commodore is not the sort who will take such an affront without returning the favour and I don't know offhand who would dare beard this lion so near to his den. No matter, will have to look into the matter of these attacks, regardless of an accord with His Majesty's pretty Navy man or not. I can't afford not to know who the motherless sons are who are stirring up the waters. At best, they are competition we don't want. At worst, these raiders will bring the hunter down on all of us honest pirates. Norrington might have relaxed enough to play with us here tonight but he would hang all of us Brethren if he had to, and be damned to his personal feelings on the matter if we were found guilty by the British courts."

"What will you do, Jack?" asked Elizabeth, a worried frown drawing down her brows. The raids could have been on settlements where she had friends or acquaintances; until she returned to the Governor's mansion, she would not be in a position to learn what had happened or which towns had been hit.

The Navy's reprisals would not be done without risks to the seamen and their ships. In her position as the daughter of the Governor and the hostess at his functions, she knew most of the officers in the Jamaican squadron, some more so than others, like Lieutenants Groves, McIntosh and Gillette. She also knew in passing quite a few of the warrant officers and other ranks, including the likes of the marines who had come this evening to fetch the Commodore.

After what she had experienced when Barbossa's pirates attacked Port Royal and afterward, Elizabeth had no illusions as to the cost in lives and wounds that might have to be paid to put an end to these raiders. She had seen the lists of casualties for the Dauntless as well as the townspeople who had died. On their voyage back from the black isle, the burials at sea had taken place and she would never forget the sorrow of seeing the canvas shrouded corpses being given to the waves. Much of her fascination with pirates, other than those who sailed aboard the Black Pearl, had died forever that day.

She still remembered James penning letter after letter to the families of the officers, sailors and marines who had been killed, a duty he had taken upon himself even though his clerks or junior officers could have done the writing. It had been heartbreaking to witness but she began then to understand the quality of the man she had used and rejected. The tall officer had been a familiar figure from her childhood onward but it was only after Jack's near hanging and escape and her declaration of love for Will that the Commodore had begun to be James. She had hurt James deeply then but he had shown his true character when he released her from her pledge, protected Will from the consequences of the rescue attempt, and gave a "good man" an opportunity. Since then, he had taken pains to become friends with Will and with her and to support the young man as a sort of mentor, showing society that he approved the match and she loved him for that.

James would take the squadron out under his own command and she knew he would not ask his men to do what he was not willing to risk himself. His officers and crews were proud of their Commodore and respected him for his dedication, ability and his innate fairness. The admiration she felt for James was countered by her fears for him when he went into battle. The irony was that she felt much the same for Jack. Her pirate friend was the closest her Will had for family and she knew how close he had come, and could yet come, to the noose. These unknown pirates were endangering those she cared about and she loathed them for it.

Like it or hate the thing, please let me know. (Flames go to the compost heap where they will do some good.) The rest of the story will follow but not likely too quickly. I think it is going to take a fair bit of research and editing to get the thing into a condition fit to be read but who knows, maybe it will take on a life of its own and write itself.

* * *

Many thanks to those who read and reviewed. It was/is such a thrill to see that people actually like what I've written. You would have seen me leaping around the house in glee, especially after what it took to hit the send key.

**Gaeruil:** Glad you liked it. I like the dynamics of the relationship between James and Jack and although I'm not fond of Will and Elizabeth, I figured that they have had a year to do some maturing and decided to be kind after all.

**Raphe1:** Have to agree with you, can never have enough good Commodore. :-)

**OpraNoodlemantra: **I'm more than a little curious to see what Jack is keeping secret, too. He hasn't told me yet so we will find out together.

**Oneiriad: **Yes, Jack and James have become my favourites, both as individuals and as pairs of characters that interact.

**dshael: **The Commodore definitely has a sense of humour, just look at him trying to hide that grin in the longboat as Jack was clutching his shoulder and all. Just can't resist playing with that funny side.

**BlackJackSilver: **Had no intention of having Jack slink around behind James to protect himself from the youngsters but that part just seemed to happen on its own so I didn't argue. Had the picture in my head as I was writing and it made me laugh so I hoped others would see it the same way.


	3. Unsettled Winds

A Kettle of Hawks

Disclaimer: Recognizable characters belong to the Mouse. Strictly for pleasure, no profit is being made or dreamt of. Mistakes are mine.

Note: Time frame is essentially early 18th Century. Aside from the obvious, place names are fictitious. The naval details are mostly based from historic records or descriptions and are interpreted to suit the story. There was a West Indies squadron of the Royal Navy listed for 1702 although I have chosen to use my fictitious Jamaica squadron. All going well, the story should remain true to its time and place, at least as much as the author's imagination is able to oblige.

****

**Chapter Three. Unsettled Winds**

Norrington walked briskly back to the Fort, his escort flanking him, the clatter of their shoes and muskets and the creaking of their leather trappings echoing off the walls along the narrow passages. He was preoccupied by the news that the marines had brought to him; the logistics of mounting a campaign to deal with this latest threat vying with the question of the identity of these new brigands. He had yet to find out which settlements had been attacked, and the casualties over and above the property looted or destroyed. Despite his attention on the problem that had been dealt him this night, Norrington was not so oblivious to ignore his surroundings and a part of his mind stayed alert for trouble. Port Royal might be a lawful community in these days but he never wholly forgot that an ambush could come in the most unlikely of places.

As soon as they entered the guardhouse, Norrington called for the officer of the watch and asked him for a more complete account of what had occurred. The lieutenant did not have many details but they were sufficient that the Commodore issued orders to have the available captains and senior officers of the ships in port, as well as the Marine commander, assemble in his office. Captain Stanhope and his second in command were already in the Fort, waiting for his return. The raiders would have to be dealt with as soon as they were able to mount a search; it would take several days to prepare plans and to make ready the ships to sail.

Once he had set the wheels in motion, Norrington headed straight up to his offices on the second floor, Murtogg and Mullroy falling in behind him until such time as he saw fit to dismiss them. He turned down the hallway to the entrance to his ready room, responding to the salute as the guard at his door straightened up to attention. The soldier opened the door for him and Norrington entered after ordering his escort to wait outside in the event he required them, giving them leave to make use of the bench across the hall, knowing they would do so in any event. They took up their stations across from the guard after the latter closed the door behind the Commodore.

Mullroy made himself comfortable at one end of the hard wooden bench while Murtogg took the other end; each man rested his musket carefully up against the wall, ready to hand. They settled themselves in as it looked to be a long night ahead. Murtogg relaxed against the back of the bench and clasped his hands loosely in his lap, already twiddling his thumbs to encourage time to pass. His friend just looked at him and shook his head pityingly.

Very quietly, the burly Mullroy asked the guard, "Has there been any more news since they sent for Himself? We weren't given but the barest message for him."

He and his mate looked expectantly at Begg, waiting to hear the latest scuttlebutt; it was up to them to keep abreast of a situation as much as they were able and to look out for themselves. One never knew when a piece of information would come in useful and from the sounds of it, this could get ugly and when things got ugly, the marines often were in the thick of it, their distinctive uniforms making them blatant targets.

Begg glanced up and down the hallway to make sure there were no stray officers lurking about and began to speak equally quietly to the attentive soldiers. It was a known fact whispering was more likely to draw unwelcome attention.

"Seems there's been some villages raided, people killed and a lot taken prisoner. The Samson was the ship what found the first two places and a right mess they sounded, too. They did what they could for the survivors and left to go after the attackers. They found the raiders and 'ad a bit of a skirmish with them but they wasn't able to sink 'em before more o' their mates showed up. The Samson fell back and returned 'otfoot to Port Royal to tell the Commodore and to get reinforcements."

Mullroy looked over to his friend, a gloomy expression on his long face, and sighed gustily. "You'd think the beggars would know enough by now to leave our territory alone and go raid some other place but no, they have to go and do it. Norrington won't let this go so 'ere we go again."

"At least there's no skeleton pirates this time," Murtogg said, trying to find something optimistic about the situation. "We took care of all that last year, thanks to Mr. Sparrow and the Black Pearl."

"You and your Black Pearl," Mullroy sneered lightly back, in the manner of good friends.

"And I was right, too, wasn't I?" Murtogg smiled happily, satisfied that he had gained a point over the garrulous Mullroy in their never-ending squabble. Begg merely rolled his eyes at the pair's habitual antics; the two provided much of the entertainment around the Fort.

"You don't want to go mentioning those skeleton things to anyone who wasn't there, you know. No one'd ever believe you and think you a Simple Simon or worse. Better to just forget about them." Mullroy continued reassuringly, "Makes no never mind, anyway; the Commodore saw to it they all were hanged and I didn't see a one of 'em get up and walk around after that, moonlight or no moonlight."

Murtogg thought about that for a moment, hoisting his sandy eyebrows to wrinkle his forehead, and nodded in agreement. He returned to observing his thumbs. His friend watched for a bit, when he asked a question, almost as if he couldn't help himself.

"Does that help at all?"

Murtogg looked over and nodded. "Why don't you try it and see for yourself?"

Mullroy thought about it for a little and then gave it a try, seeing if he could get a good rhythm going. Begg watched this for a moment and just shook his head

Mullroy grimaced a bit at the thumb twiddling and put his head back, preparing to have a nap whilst he had the opportunity. Begg settled himself, bracing his back lightly on the door jamb for a little ease. He rested his musket butt down on the floor and did his best to preserve the mien of an alert sentry. Any prudent soldier or sailor worth his salt learned early on to appear busy, at least in sight of officers and sergeants, or any others of that ilk.

* * *

The Commodore knew it would take some time for the senior officers to arrive; several were presently in the Fort, a few had quarters nearby and others could be found aboard their ships or in the town. The summons had been sent out, giving him an opportunity to change and prepare for the session ahead.

He stepped into the private room connected to his office. Little more than a cubby hole, it was spartan yet had sufficient room for a cot, a chair, and a small chest of drawers with a wash basin, wall sconce and mirror above, a towel on a hook beside it. It had the advantage of a tall shuttered window that looked out to the harbour and the docks. There was just enough space left for a narrow locker where he kept a spare uniform and a few other items of clothing. A wall shelf held a clock and several books for when he had the time to indulge, including a well loved copy of Kit Marlowe's Doctor Faustus lying cheek by jowl with Shakespeare's Tempest. His schedule all too frequently found him working late into the night, keeping him from his own bed at his residence; he fully expected to get what little sleep he was afforded herein again this night.

Rapidly, Norrington stripped off his civilian clothes, draping them neatly over the chair back. His sword and belt were hung from a hook on the back of the door, close to hand if they were needed. He took a moment to have a quick wash to clean up after his fencing practice; the light fragrance of the sandalwood as refreshing as the cool water, simple luxuries likely to be in scarce supply in the following weeks. He performed his ablutions efficiently while he deliberated on the day's events.

James had enjoyed his evening's respite from duty, and the unexpected turns it had taken. He had not dreamt of fencing amicably with Jack Sparrow, of all people, let alone in Port Royal under his own guns. James was quite aware that his benign reaction to Sparrow's presence had startled Will and Elizabeth, though he suspected Jack might not have been as surprised as the younger pair.

His own curiosity had been piqued by the seeming lapses that Sparrow had made, indications, perhaps, of an origin in some place other than the stews of Tortuga and London. Norrington had collected numerous tales about Jack Sparrow but could recall not one that told who or what the man had been before he became a pirate, at least with any degree of certitude. It would be interesting to see what, if anything, came of this new arrangement.

Shaking his head slightly at the direction of his thoughts, James dried off on a coarse linen towel, as he considered several possible outcomes of this accord with his new associate. He would have a quiet word with the Governor soon regarding Sparrow and letters of marque. James rather liked the idea of giving Sparrow a bit of protection; whether the pirate wanted it or not, there were two young mutual friends who wanted him safe. Besides, being one up on the wily scamp amused him.

Donning most of his uniform, he attended to his neck cloth absently, continuing his musings. Aspects of the future had become much more remarkable, definitely more entertaining; tonight, regardless, he had far more urgent things to deal with than an audacious rogue he no longer wished to see stand under a gallow's shadow. His wig and uniform coat came next and as their familiar weight and encumbrance settled on his person, he was restored to being the Commodore and James' short leave was over.

* * *

When Norrington came back into his ready room, a number of officers were already present, including Captain Stanhope and his first lieutenant, and one of the other commanders currently in port. There were several junior officers, including his aides, waiting for his return. Major Cuthbertson of the Marines arrived just then, his vivid scarlet jacket standing out jauntily amidst the more sombre naval blue. He was followed shortly thereafter by the captains of the other two ships in port.

His aides and secretary had anticipated his needs and already had a number of maps out, with paper, pen, ink and sand near to hand, on the large table that served as his chart stand. There were several branched candelabra casting their light on the table and doing duty as expedient paper weights on some of the curling corners of the charts. Navigational dividers and rules had been laid out ready for use.

"Gentlemen, I am pleased that you have been able to get here so quickly tonight. A situation has arisen that we must deal with summarily," Norrington greeted them briskly, looking around the room and mentally estimating the vessels, crews and firepower represented in these officers. He was already beginning to select those vessels he would take out and the ones that would remain to guard the rest of the area.

"Captain Stanhope, I have been informed that you have reports of attacks on some of our settlements on your patrol route. Please describe to us fully what you encountered." The Commodore wasted no time in getting down to business.

Stanhope, a stocky, middle aged man from Hull, spoke in his broad Yorkshire voice, carefully choosing his words to give a clear but concise description of his experience on patrol. He had learnt from past experience that the Commodore wanted a thorough, detailed report, including any observations he had been able to make. Norrington knew the area well from his own patrols over the past decade and was familiar with the islands in question.

"Aye, Sir. We were in the third week of our patrol, having met with nothing untoward, or any incident more serious than a bit of smuggling activity. We dealt with that and continued on our route as planned. On the seventeenth day out, we came around the headland from the north and looked into Green Turtle Bay, fully expecting to see the village as we had on our previous circuit." With his hand, Stanhope indicated his route and approach to the bay on the chart, showing where they had stood off the shore, the other officers gathering closer around him to observe for themselves.

"We had not anticipated what we met there. There had been no indications of trouble until we came into actual view of the village. We could see where the buildings and other structures had been burned. The dock was mostly collapsed. Some of the fishing smacks had been sunk in the shallows, or destroyed on the beach where they had been hauled up. The fires had burnt out, or been doused some time earlier, as we could see no smoke rising from the remnants. There were no signs of the villagers that we could observe at that time."

Stanhope continued with his account in a professional, dispassionate voice although the grim expression on his weathered face gave the lie to his tone. The looks on the faces of the other officers surrounding the table mirrored that of the speaker; they had a good idea what they would be hearing next, having seen such incidents before.

"I gave the order to come to quarters and set the lookouts to search the shore as well as out to sea, in the event the perpetrators were yet in the vicinity. From what we were able to see at first, there was no way to tell if the destruction was from natural causes or from attack, although the latter would be more plausible. When we got closer and could see in more detail, there was no doubt whatsoever in my mind that the village had been overwhelmed by force."

"The bay there is too shallow for the Samson to enter safely. I sent in three boats with two of my lieutenants and a midshipman, with Marines to support them. Lieutenant Trelawney had the command of the landing party. We backed the sails and hove to just outside the bay to keep the wind and remained at quarters until such time as the threat appeared to have passed. We continued to observe the landing party and the village through telescopes. The Marines established the perimeter whilst my officers and sailors searched the houses and outbuildings."

"I could see them move from one structure to another, but it wasn't until they had gone through more than half that any living villagers were discovered. The Marines also found some who had taken refuge in the undergrowth away from the village. Out of some two score people, only a dozen remained alive. They were brought together at one of the least damaged buildings, one lieutenant returning to the Samson to report their findings. We sent the boat back immediately with medical supplies, food, clothing and blankets. I went ashore at this time, bringing more hands to help with the clean up, including those who had the most doctoring experience."

"There were a number of bodies that were located during our search of the area in addition to the places the villagers told us to look. In all, there were thirteen bodies. We proceeded to bury them and mark the graves with crosses and the names the villagers were able to tell us. Most of the dead and the survivors were women, children and the old; the able bodied men were mostly absent. We were given to understand that the raiders took the men that they could, at least the ones that were not killed whilst resisting."

Stanhope produced a list of the names of the survivors, the known dead and the missing and placed it on the chart beside the village's location.

"The attack was brutal and executed without regard for life or property. It almost seemed as if the attackers wanted to acquire only men, possibly for some kind of labour force. Several of the women were violated. Some of the people survived long enough to flee into the undergrowth, others did not. Four children were amongst the dead, the youngest a mere infant."

As Captain Stanhope recounted his tale, the faces of the men around the table became darker and more focussed on the task they would be undertaking. They were hunters and now they had prey, human vermin to be found and brought to justice. Such action could also lead to prizes and advancement, slow to come in peace time. The Commodore showed little emotion in his expression; his anger at the unnecessary slaughter and destruction kept tightly hidden below the surface calm, hinted at by the clenching of the muscle in his jaw.

"Were you able to find any evidence to indicate the identity of these raiders?" Norrington asked the Yorkshireman, gesturing to the settlement on Green Turtle Bay.

Stanhope shook his head in negation, answering, "Very little, Sir, the villagers were in shock; however they were able to describe two vessels, a sloop and a brigantine. The sloop came into the bay, right to the jetty, whilst the brigantine anchored further out in the deeper water of the bay. The vessels were not particularly large or distinctive in appearance; however, a couple of the people said the brigantine had a red strake under the gun ports. They did not agree on how many guns the brigantine appeared to mount, but there appeared to be a goodly number of men aboard both vessels. Neither vessel showed flags of nationality. They both flew what could have been pirate flags although we did not recognize the descriptions to match known pirates."

"The sloop also had sweeps so she could manoeuvre right in, regardless of the wind. There were men enough aboard her to overrun the settlement swiftly. They had the advantage of attacking just after nightfall when people had mostly retired. There were no sentries out or anything of that nature as they felt safe enough to do without. The raiders had enough moonlight to guide them in, as well as what fires and torches were burning at the time around the buildings."

"The attack was rapid, by all accounts, and once the people were secured, the pirates proceeded to loot the place. They took whatever foodstuffs they didn't destroy and what few valuables they were able to find. Through the night, the raiders amused themselves drinking, burning the buildings and boats, and abusing their captives. When daylight came, they rounded up the people they wanted, roped them together and forced them into the boats. The villagers who remained that they didn't have a use for, they put to the sword or shot. Fortunately, some individuals had been able to escape in the confusion during the darkness."

"The remainder of the buildings, fishing smacks and the jetty were smashed in and torched as the pirates left. The survivors watched where they were able and gave us the direction that the two vessels appeared to take. They waited under cover until they were sure that they were safe and then came back to ascertain what was left of their families and homes."

"When we arrived, the very sight of the Samson was enough to send everyone left back into hiding. It was only when they were sure that we were genuinely Navy and that we were not there to harm them, that the villagers began to filter out to meet us. We did what we could for them, helped bury the dead and left them with supplies. We then set out after the raiders, using the direction given to us by the villagers. The heading seemed to lead to the next island and several settlements located there."

Stanhope marked the heading on the chart, leading clearly from the village at Green Turtle Bay south west to a group of several small islands and reefs. There were no large towns or settlements in the group, merely a number of small villages similar to the first one that had been attacked. Clearly, the raiders were not after the usual kind of plunder pirates preferred.

Norrington motioned to Stanhope to continue his report. Nodding in response, the man went on with the account of what they found at the next island. No one around the table was surprised to hear a repeat of the initial account. There was very little variation in the details, other than more people from the second village managed to escape the raiders. The destruction was of like pattern and the abduction of primarily able-bodied men was the same. The only differences were that the Navy were not as far behind and that the fires had not burnt out; in fact, the smoke plumes had led the Samson to the location.

"Were the survivors there better able to give a description of their attackers?" Norrington asked, wishing to acquire as many details as possible. The other officers listened intently, hoping to get a clearer picture of what they soon would be pursuing.

"I'm afraid that they were able to add little more. Their attackers came at night, overran the settlement quickly and concentrated on capturing the able-bodied men. There was rather more warning as the dogs began barking when the raiders came into the village and more people were able to escape. Some fought back where they could and at least two of the pirates were killed and several more were wounded. They took the bodies back to their vessels instead of leaving them behind, thus removing possible clues to their identity or nationality."

"As before, they looted what foodstuffs and goods they could find but they did not linger long, possibly because the resistance was greater than they had expected or perhaps for some other reason. They departed at first light, taking with them what captives they had managed to acquire. The survivors were able to give a few more details but neither the vessels nor the men were known to them or to us."

"The sloop had at least thirty to forty men. Several languages were overheard, including Spanish and French; their manner of dress was mixed, mostly common sailors with a few more richly dressed among them. No uniforms or insignia of rank were noticed by either group of villagers. Again, the buildings, boats and the jetty were smashed and torched."

"There was one more action that the raiders took; the brigantine stood off the shore and fired upon the settlement once the sloop's crew had returned with their captives and plunder. Whether they had decided it was more effective to use cannon to destroy the settlement or whether it was a reprisal against the inhabitants for fighting back, I cannot say. The villagers were able to get a better count of the armament on the brigantine this time; she had ports for at least 10 cannon on her starboard side."

"I have recorded their descriptions here, Sir, as well as the lists of captured, injured or killed at. Crispin's Landing." Stanhope placed another set of papers on the chart at the settlement named. He then pointed out the heading the Samson took when they went after the pirates after the second strike.

"We again were able to get a direction from the villagers and, after leaving supplies for them, wasted no time in going after the raiders. We had gained some time on them and I believed we had a good chance of catching them at one of the other villages on the island."

"The winds were in our favour so we stood out from the coast and went as swiftly and directly as the Samson could, trying to either catch the raiders on shore or between us and the land. We made very good speed under a full press of canvas." Stanhope's pride in his ship and crew was clearly evident as he described the pursuit, even through his restraint. The other officers nodded in unconscious approval, understanding in their bones the love for a good ship. The Yorkshireman continued his account, his finger drawing their course along the coast line marked on the chart.

"This time, the lookouts sighted the sails of the brigantine, then those of the sloop. They were using the same tactics, the larger vessel standing out from the land, looking to be in irons, with the sloop running in to make the actual attack. Upon sighting them, we went to quarters. We had some advantage having the sun behind us and I wanted to get as close as possible before opening fire. The captain of the brigantine had lookouts, it seemed, for they did appear to spot us and began to raise sail and come about."

"The sloop followed suit but tardily; either they were not watching the brigantine or they were too involved in their actions on shore. They were able to get their sweeps out and get way on their vessel to clear the harbour. Once they managed to get their sails trimmed, the sloop gained speed quite quickly and kept the brigantine between us and them as they headed down the coast."

"The sloop was able to get away from us by virtue of its speed and shallower draft. Whoever handled her, knew what he was doing. The brigantine was another thing altogether. She opened fire upon us before we were in actual range but did manage to raise more of her sails. The winds were fresh so she was able to run with them, making speed fairly well; having been in irons whilst standing off shore made it easier for her to come to speed."

"We continued to pursue until we were in range and fired on her with the bow chasers, hoping to cause damage enough to slow her down or to turn her. We didn't hit her at that time but she did alter course a couple of points, moving closer in to shore. We followed her down the coast line until we came to Grenville Point, having gained on her until we were no more than half a mile away and in range with the rest of our cannon, using the bow chasers to keep at her. We were about to give her a broadside when she turned at the point and ran down the passage, cramming on as much sail as possible. We pursued, bearing in mind that the sloop had also gone that route."

"We came around the point and saw the sloop waiting to ambush us. We fired on them as our guns came to bear on them and hit them hard; they were only able to fire at us sporadically. Their mast was damaged as were the sails; she also took at least one hit to the hull. We left her there for the time being and continued after the brigantine as she held the captives."

"While we had attended to the sloop, the other vessel had managed to get some distance from us. We resumed pursuit and followed her, again managing to gain on her thanks to a good soldier's wind. What we did not expect was a consort for the brigantine and sloop. When we sailed past the bay here, a larger vessel was waiting for us and opened fire with a full broadside."

"We returned fire as rapidly as we could but I could see the brigantine coming about to join the other ship, hoping to catch us between her. We were damaged from the initial broadside, including a hit low on the hull at the waterline, although I believe that was more good luck than good aim, given the minimal results they achieved with the rest of their shot." Stanhope looked morose as he recounted this part of his report; no captain ever appreciated his ship being damaged.

"Given that we were outgunned by the larger ship, with the brigantine returning and the sloop still behind us, I chose to break off the engagement and return to Port Royal to report this. They broke off their pursuit of us rather soon and the lookouts saw the ship and the brigantine head in a northerly direction. " He marked the places on the map where the vessels had been at the time of the ambush and the apparent course taken by the foe.

Captain Stanhope concluded his report, "There seemed to be at least three vessels involved in this raiding, although I do not know for sure what the third ship's role was. It had not taken part in the actual attacks that we had come across, nor did the witnesses indicate it had been seen. She was a full ship and had at least forty guns, from what we could determine. Her hull was painted black with red gun ports and a broad red strake above them but she flew no flags that we saw. The lines of her hull and cut of her sails looked to be French but again, I have no idea as to the actual identity of her captain or nationality. The three vessels taken together were more than I could deal with alone, given the circumstances."

Stanhope's expression was dour at this admission but he had taken the correct action and they all knew it. "We came about and got clear of the raiders and made our way back as soon as possible. The carpenter was able to repair the hull, and the remainder of the damage we took was mended on the way back to port. Fortunately, we had taken few serious injuries amongst the men and we were able to deal with those as well."

"Captain Stanhope, thank you for your account; it has been most comprehensive, as I have come to expect from you. You were correct in returning to port to bring word of this."

Norrington thanked Captain Stanhope and looked around the table at the officers assembled there. The report had been thorough, what he would have expected from the Yorkshireman, but he did not care for this new threat to his territory. Two, possibly three, vessels acting in concert, of unknown origin or allegiance, were not to be taken lightly. He would have to deal with them as summarily as possible but first he had to locate them.

"Observations, gentlemen?" he asked his officers. For a short time, they discussed the raids among themselves, asking Stanhope for clarification when needed. His report had been painstaking and left little unsaid.

"Have there been any other reports of activity like this, of late?" Horace Wrangell, captain of the Dauntless, inquired. "I've not heard even a whisper of any attacks of this nature, neither here in Port Royal or on our most recent patrol."

The other men nodded in agreement, it had in fact been very quiet of late. They all knew that a raiding fleet such as this would take several ships and superior firepower to put down. The Dauntless was the natural leader in such an action but what other vessels would be sent out with her had not been determined yet. The squadron still had the rest of the territory to defend, and there was always a possibility these raids could be a ploy to draw them away from other areas.

"No, Captain, I have had no word of anything like this at all. I will put out the word to my sources for information. In the meantime, we will have to prepare a plan to deal with this new threat and to continue to protect the remainder of the territory. I will be aboard the Dauntless when we sail."

"There is little else we can do tonight. I would have preparations begun in the morning to provide the Dauntless, the Samson, and the Swift, with munitions and supplies for three months. Captain Thorndyke of the Lachesis is due back from his patrol in the next day or so. Your orders authorizing the supplies from the purser and chandler will be ready by nine o'clock tomorrow morning and I will have them sent to your vessels. Please consider strategies with which to deal with these raiders. We will meet here tomorrow afternoon at two o'clock."

"Major Cuthbertson, I would have you review your roster and ensure that each vessel has a proper complement of Marines and include amongst them some of your best marksmen. Tomorrow we will have a better idea of what is needed aboard each ship and can plan accordingly."

"Gentlemen, until tomorrow then. I bid you good night." Norrington dismissed the meeting. He signalled to Stanhope to remain behind for a moment as the others left to return to their vessels or their quarters, already discussing possible means of locating and dealing with the raiders. His aides and secretary would prepare the written orders for him to approve and sign tonight and see to their delivery first thing in the morning.

"Captain, do you require medical assistance or anything of that nature for your men? You said that there was little damage but not how many were wounded. Also, draw upon any carpenters and supplies that you require to make good your repairs in time to sail."

Norrington knew that Stanhope would have done the best he could for his men but a ship at sea was not the best place to attend to wounded. If too many men were unable to work, then he would have to rearrange the manifests to ensure that the ships went into potential danger with as close to full crews as he .was able to manage. They were chronically short-handed in the Caribbean, thanks to disease and the climate; their distance from Whitehall did not aid them in refilling their crews.

"I have three men that are being brought up to the Fort's infirmary. Two were wounded by splinters and a third was hit by other debris thrown up by a cannon ball. The doctor is tending them here and then he will go aboard the Samson to treat the others who had minor injuries. Fortunately our doctor's assistant was able to deal with the injuries at the time; it's been a good thing to have him on board this time. He was able to help the wounded villagers as well, more so than we could have done on our own, I believe."

Stanhope had been pleased when the Commodore had had one of the doctor's assistants sent out with them on their patrol. The man might not be a full doctor or surgeon but he was a stage up on what they had had to make do with prior to his inclusion with the crew.

"I am glad to hear that the man was able to provide assistance. There are not enough doctors to go around but we can at least attempt to have medical aid to some extent available on as many ships as possible. Hopefully, their services will not be needed but that is not likely, given the circumstances. If nothing else, the butcher's bill can be reduced."

Norrington then requested a written report on the raids for the morrow and bade Stanhope good night, sending him off to get some rest while he could. Next, he directed his aides and secretary to draw up the orders that he had decided upon, ready to begin their implementation the next morning after he approved and signed the documents. He sent them off to their respective duties, asking one of them to have a pot of tea sent up; it would help keep him awake enough to think clearly. He was in for a restless night and sleep would be a long weary time coming, if it came at all.

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A/N. Many thanks to those who have been so positive and encouraging. It really helps! This chapter is to set events in motion and begin to identify some of the players. The action is likely to be of a type familiar to anyone who is into naval stories; I do not claim to rival the likes of Forrester, Reeman, Parkinson, etc., but I do try to make the characters believable in their behavior and actions. It's the interaction between the characters, and their depths, that fascinates me and I hope to deliver some of that enjoyment to anyone who cares to read this story. As always, mistakes are mine. Comments are welcome; flames go to the compost bin.


	4. Eddies

A Kettle of Hawks

Disclaimer: Recognizable characters belong to the Mouse. Strictly for pleasure, no profit is being made or dreamt of. Mistakes are mine.

Note: Time frame is essentially early 18th Century. Aside from the obvious, place names are fictitious. The naval details are mostly based from historic records or descriptions and are interpreted to suit the story. All going well, the story should remain true to its time and place, at least as much as the author's imagination is able to oblige.

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**Chapter Four. Eddies.**

"What will you do, Jack?" Elizabeth had asked after Norrington's departure into the dark.

A fair question, Jack thought to himself, scratching idly at an itch somewhere on the sweaty scalp buried under his plaits and trinkets. His evening ashore had taken quite a turn, astonishing even his own little self. He had come in to Port Royal to take delivery of a fine new Turner blade and to visit for a while with the children. He had not anticipated Norrington's presence at Will's forge; a Commodore in a playful mood was not something he encountered every day of the week. Even more surprising to his pirating sensibilities was the accord he had chosen to enter into with Norrington, first to call the man by his given name in the manner of friends and then to hint at sharing information with him. That was a decidedly odd bent, even for his chequered career.

"James" had shown a talent for mischief that intrigued Jack. It had been painfully obvious when Elizabeth had used, then discarded, him in such a public humiliation that there was much more to the man than the uniform. Jack had witnessed the distress and loss in those fine green eyes and had not been lying when he'd told Norrington that he had been rooting for him. He believed even more strongly now that the girl had had no notion of what she had lost although it was right for her to follow her heart. At least she and Will had been able to make a true friend of such a man.

He had had glimpses of the other man's sense of humour and quirkiness a year past but this new face was something that drew his curious nature. He laughed ruefully, quietly acknowledging to himself his magpie tendencies. _Captain Jack Sparrow of the Black Pearl_ becoming mates with _Commodore James L. Norrington of His Britannic Majesty's Royal Navy_, the notorious hunter justly feared by so many of the Brethren. It had to be all that brocade, bullion and fancy sword which drew his acquisitive eye. Definitely magpie…or pirate.

Jack had been gazing absently at the barred door whilst his thoughts tumbled over the evening's events, the expression in his eyes far away. He was called back to the present when Elizabeth repeated her question, Will waiting with equal interest by her side, an arm slung possessively around her shoulders, his other hand twining cosily with hers at waist level.

"What will I do, Missy? For starters, I want to have my visit with the two of you. After all, that is one of the things I came into town to do tonight. After that, I expect to take my pretty new sword and depart this lovely little port and make my way back to the Pearl. There're far too many Navy types around for comfort, what with so much of the squadron come into port now. Besides, with this latest news, your Commodore will be setting in motion his plans to track these raiders down and end their days. I'd liefer not be in his sights when he's out in full hunting mode."

"We guessed that much, Jack, but what of this accord now with James?"

Will frowned at his friend, wanting for once to get a clear answer from the man. He was close to both the older men but was experiencing some difficulty in seeing the two actually agree to work together for mutual benefit. The situation last year with Barbossa and his crew had made for strange bedfellows but there had been some rationale to Commodore and pirate forming a temporary truce. This new arrangement was unexpected, to say the least.

Jack looked at Will and Elizabeth; they were observing him closely, almost forgetting to breathe in their intensity. He stared back thoughtfully, mulling over the question. The consequences of such a deal could endanger his life if certain members of the pirating community got wind of it; traitors were not well liked by the Brethren. However, the truth of the matter was that the days of the buccaneers were becoming numbered. The Navy was increasing its command over the seas, not just in the Caribbean but further abroad, putting pirates down summarily when they were captured. Even the most capable of pirates could not reasonably expect to live to dandle grandchildren on their knees, telling the littl'uns stories of way back when.

Over the past year, whenever he had met up with Will and Elizabeth, they inevitably asked if he would be willing to accept a letter of marque and become a somewhat more respectable privateer. It was not as if he did not have the ear of the Governor through them. From what the whelp had told him, Jack was aware Elizabeth's father had shown some kindness toward his own self when the elder Swann had encouraged the Commodore in allowing Jack's escape and the now infamous one day's head start.

He had been considering the notion more of late; he could see an end coming to pirating as he knew it. He loved well the excitement of the chase and capture and the lure of treasure but his freedom, the Pearl and the wide expanses of the seas were where his heart lay. It wasn't as if he truly needed more plunder, after returning to the Isle of Death and thriftily clearing it of Barbossa's and others' hoards. The Aztec gold, of course, was conspicuously left behind, buried along with Barbossa's remains under the part of the cavern he had been able to collapse with black powder. Even while he watched the rock come down, he had had a nasty crawling sensation of being watched by malevolent eyes. He had found himself checking his hands and arms to reassure that solid flesh still decently covered them. He had been relieved when they left that island for good, having no desire ever to see it again, even though he might be the only one left who had the means to find it intentionally.

"This accord will depend on who's doing the raidin', Will. We'll be making for Tortuga as soon as I get back to the Pearl. We've been away for several months, only came here now to visit and pick up my new sword. Nice work, by the way, just what I've come to expect from the finest sword maker around these parts."

"Thank you, Jack," Will started to reply, pleased that his friend appreciated his efforts, only to be interrupted by his fiancée.

"Now that we have established that you like your sword and approve the skill involved, may we return to the topic at hand, please?" Accustomed to what she privately thought of as Sparrovian subterfuge, Elizabeth was not going to allow Jack to divert attention from the question they really wanted him to answer.

Jack stared at her then glanced at Will for support, failing to find any iota of sympathy there as the young man simply shrugged a shoulder and raised a brow as if to say, "Well, what did you expect?"

"Ah. Yes. We were speaking of this accord, were we not?"

"You know perfectly well that is the subject," came the pointed response.

"You do know you will be wedding a shrew, do you not, young Bootstrap?"

"You don't expect me to fall for that one, do you, Jack? If I answer yes, as you are hoping, then you will take Elizabeth's attention away from you. She's most definitely not a shrew; she hasn't slapped you even once tonight." Will had been learning from experience.

"That can be remedied, if you do not get on with it, Jack."

"It's not too late to call off the wedding, you know."

Now a well-shod feminine foot tapped impatiently on the smithy floor.

"We're only three or four good days' sail from Tortuga, you know. There are some lovelies there that would be delighted to service, eh… make that serve, such a handsome young fellow as your own fine self. They would certainly remember you at the Faithful Bride. You positive you don't want to come along with us?"

"Jack! I only went there with you to find a crew for the Interceptor and go rescue Elizabeth. Besides, it was you who was slapped by every woman who came near you. It still surprises me that you have any teeth left in your head, gold or otherwise." Will took rapid action to prevent Jack from transferring Elizabeth's annoyance away from Jack and onto himself.

"It may be you two deserve each other, after all."

"At once!" Elizabeth's patience had ended.

"All right, all right. The pair of you already sound like an old married couple. Spoils all the fun, I might add," Jack answered her petulantly, studiously avoiding eye contact with Elizabeth.

"I din't come empty-handed, you know. I brought presents for both of you, seeing as how it's been a while since we visited. Let me just go fetch them from the landing. Won't take me but a moment."

As he spoke, Jack smiled ingratiatingly and swayed back from the twosome, beginning to sidle his way discreetly over to the steps to the upper storey while he continued to chatter. Without so much as a glance, from one to the other, Elizabeth and Will each grasped one of Jack's arms and accompanied him most kindly to the stairs, thus preventing any chance of escape into the humid night. They knew their slithery friend well and could not rule out a sudden bolt for freedom from him under the circumstances.

"Will, would you please go up and fetch whatever it is that Jack has brought?" Elizabeth requested, courtesy personified whilst maintaining a firm grip on the bare wrist and elbow she held.

"With pleasure, darling," Will answered, equally politely, releasing the arm he held, seeing that his love was securely anchored to their pirate's other arm. He ran lightly up the steps and retrieved the parcel he found there. Curious about its contents, he squeezed the package gently and then shook it by his ear.

"What is it, Will?" Elizabeth, despite her hold on Jack, could not resist asking, even though the package had not been opened.

"Well, if he would get a move on and come back down, then you can open it and find out." Jack pointed out the obvious answer to her question, thinking the pair of them looked like children at Christmas, eager to find out what they had been given.

Will looked a bit sheepish as he did as he had been told. Elizabeth released Jack's arm to use both hands to untie the straps holding the bundle together into a sort of pack, Will supporting it for her. The wrapping was a spotted goat skin, most of the hair worn off, but inside was a wooden box of rich ebony and mother of pearl inlay, carved and polished beautifully. It was taller than it was deep, the lock set with an elaborate escutcheon of silver, matching silver handles on its sides.

"It's beautiful, Jack! Wherever did it come from? Where did you get it?" Elizabeth asked as her hands stroked the fine wood in appreciation, a smile of delight on her expressive face.

"'Tis from India. I got it a long time ago on a voyage out that way. It was hidden on the Pearl; luckily, Barbossa either didn't find its hidey hole or bother with it if he did. Why don't you open it and see if there's anything inside it, after all, what is a box for but for putting things in, Missy?"

Will held the box more firmly as his fiancée opened the catch and raised the lid. It was small enough that he could peer over and see the contents. The fragrance of rich spices wafted up, things he was not familiar with but they teased his nostrils and imagination. He had some idea of their value as Elizabeth's eyes opened wide and she began to lift the metal boxes from the chest's interior, reading the neatly penned labels as she did so.

"Jack, you're a wonder. There are all kinds of spices here, cloves, ginger root, nutmegs, peppercorns, cinnamon bark, all sorts of things. The box has a wonderful smell too, what is the wood that makes the interior?" Elizabeth asked, opening each cleverly designed square box and holding them to her nose in turn to inhale the exotic scents, delighting in them.

"It's mostly sandalwood inside. There should be enough spices there for a young lady, such as yourself, to start her household after she's wed." Jack answered the girl's question, satisfied that she liked his little gift.

"You've not gone far enough, Lizzy. There's something in there for Will, too, as well as something for the both of you. Keep looking."

Will watched in some wonder as Elizabeth did exactly as she had been ordered. She removed the spice containers and found several letters tied up with a faded ribbon.

"Are these what you mean, Jack?"

"Aye."

Jack had a pensive, somewhat poignant, expression on his tanned face as he watched the girl hold the papers out. He knew what was in them as he had helped a friend by listening as each letter was laboured over and lovingly written. William had made him promise to see that they were delivered in case something happened that he would not be able to see to it himself. Jack had waited a long time for this, to fulfill the promise made in better times.

"Those are letters William wrote for his wife and infant son years ago that were never sent. For all he was a good pirate, he was a good man and missed his family ever so much. He had always hoped that he would be able to get enough to go home, set them up in a comfortable house and provide a good living as they deserved. It didn't happen the way he had dreamed but at least Will here can read some of his papa's thoughts straight from the source."

Will very carefully put the box down on the step and abruptly sat down beside it, knees suddenly weak. He lifted the little bundle out, a fine tremor visible in his hands. He had reckoned that Jack had known his father when he had helped the pirate escape the jail to go in search of Elizabeth. The shock when Jack had referred to his father as a good pirate had been wholly unexpected and equally unwelcome.

In the months since, Will had reflected often about his parents, Jack, and pirates. His experiences had tempered his outlook somewhat but he had never even dreamed of such a gift, to be able to read something his father had written. Yet here he was, holding the letters in his hands. He looked over to where Jack stood patiently waiting for him to come to terms with his gift. For several moments he was speechless, unable to form any other answer; his throat constricted by his emotions. Elizabeth had moved to sit close beside him, a look of some wonderment on her face.

"Jack Sparrow. You are truly a marvel. There's no doubt of it, at all." Elizabeth repeated her earlier sentiment, her eyes glowing happily at what their pirate friend had given Will. Her own gift was lovely and appreciated but the letters Will held with such reverence were priceless, a simple gift that was worth more than all the gold in the Spanish Main to her husband-to-be.

"That would be _Captain _Jack Sparrow." Jack could not resist one last correction; after all, he had earned it tonight.

"You might want to have a look in the bottom of that chest, Missy, there's something there still that you haven't brought out yet."

"There's more?" she asked in surprise, dark brows raised in question.

"Oh, just a little bit more. Go on. Fetch it out."

Elizabeth did as she had been bidden and reached in to the box again, feeling around for something that Jack said she had not discovered so far. Her fingers felt a rough cord and a wash leather bag that felt hard and lump-filled to her. She lifted it out and looked to Jack. He flamboyantly produced a white handkerchief and ostentatiously spread it open across her lap, motioning to her to open the bag onto the fine linen lest she dropped part of the contents.

A large double handful of gems fell out. Even in the light in the smithy, they gleamed and shot lovely colours over the skin of her hand. The glistening rich warmth of rubies, emeralds and sapphires was accentuated by the white fire of diamonds. Amidst the stones lay a number of perfect pearls wrapped in fine lawn, including half a dozen flawless black pearls, the largest of which was the size of a quail's egg. She held a fortune in her hands. Will looked over to the gems, his eyes still a bit watery from contemplating Jack's gift of the letters.

"I don't know what to say, Jack. This is nothing I could have anticipated. I really don't know where to begin."

"Don't begin. Just say thank you and have done with it. There should be enough there to give you some creature comforts, or to have in reserve in case of need. Who knows what the future will bring, after all, so it's a good thing to have. Very portable, easy to hide and pretty, too. Quite practical, if I do say so meself."

"Then we say 'Thank you, Jack,' for such a wonderful gift." Both Elizabeth and Will were sensible enough to do as they had been bidden. Jack, for once, was not interested in long speeches and fulsome thanks. Elizabeth did make a point of hugging her pirate friend and kissed him soundly on his cheek. She was rewarded with a remarkably endearing and shy smile that was quite unlike Jack Sparrow's customary cheeky grin. Will was still a bit overwhelmed so he simply hugged Jack in his turn. Jack permitted the closeness for a moment, then gave Will a pat on the back and slipped out of his hold.

Jack was pleased with the effect his gifts had on the young couple. Will's business was beginning to thrive and Elizabeth and her father had the connections to take the young man further than he could have dreamed. It was not sufficient to make the finest swords hereabouts; one had to know how to spread the word and make use of associations with the rich and influential to advance oneself. The value of the gems would help ease their way. It was a good arrangement for all three parties; Will would prosper in the world, Governor Swann would gain a more suitable son-in-law, and Elizabeth would be happy.

Jack wandered over to the wide ledge around the forge and seated himself comfortably, having first retrieved his rum bottle. He had a congratulatory swallow, enjoying its flavour, as he contemplated his young friends and thought back to an older friend. He had never been able to discover Bootstrap Bill's eventual fate; he knew the man had been tossed overboard tied to a cannon but the Aztec gods' curse changed everything.

The other pirates had survived death for a decade above the sea, maybe Bill had been able to detach himself from that cannon and escape the depths. Jack could only imagine what his friend had experienced; if Bill survived, it would be impossible to predict what his state of mind could be. Jack decided not to share his musings with the young folk; he had enough nightmares of his own about the lad's father, no need to encourage such miserable things in the others.

His thoughts moved to more immediate events. Jack considered the news that had drawn Norrington back to his fort. He wanted to find out what was in those reports the Commodore would be getting but Jack could not see any practical way to achieve that tonight. For now, he would slip out of Port Royal and take the Pearl back to Tortuga and begin his own investigations there.

If the opportunity arose, he might be able to contact Norrington and arrange for some exchange of information. He was becoming more and more curious about Norrington's own network of informants; the man was intelligent and more than capable of creating and utilising such a useful arrangement. Jack had his own connections throughout the Caribbean, he just had not bargained on becoming a part of the Commodore's personal network.

There would be some time left that Jack could visit with Will after the Governor's carriage had come to fetch Elizabeth back to the mansion. When things were nice and quiet in the middle of the night, then he would leave to make his way back to where he had stowed his little skiff and sail to make his rendezvous with the Pearl. All going well, the watch and the Navy would be unaware of his little excursion into the town.

* * *

A/N My thanks to those who have read and reviewed. The feedback is welcome, especially when it has been so encouraging. The characters are such fun to play with; hopefully I can do them justice. 


	5. Night Airs

A Kettle of Hawks

Disclaimer: Recognizable characters belong to the Mouse. Strictly for pleasure, no profit is being made or dreamt of. Mistakes are mine.

Note: Time frame is essentially early 18th Century. Aside from the obvious, place names are fictitious. The naval details are mostly based from historic records or descriptions and are interpreted to suit the story. All going well, the story should remain true to its time and place, at least as much as the author's imagination is able to oblige.

**Chapter Five. Night Airs.**

"Damnation," Norrington said to himself under his breath, not liking the implications of Stanhope's report. It was one thing to deal with individual pirate vessels but something else altogether when it appeared that a fleet of them was developing. The Jamaica station was not heavily supplied with resources, unlike the more important seas closer to Britain; he had only so many ships and crews to allocate to the hunt as well as maintain order through the remainder of his territory. Even the numbers of sailors and marines he had was heavily eroded by the fevers and diseases that sometimes ran rampant in these climes; the Admiralty was not swift at sending replacements.

Norrington considered the situation he now faced. So far, there was not even a hint as to the identity or nationality of the vessels or crews that had attacked the two settlements. He did not know yet whether they were going to sea to hunt vermin or do battle with another nation's ships. Like any naval man with ambitions, Norrington much preferred the latter; after all, that was where the greater opportunities for prize money and advancement lay. Simple rat catching, however satisfying, rarely advanced one's career with the powers that resided in remote London.

He knew his officers and crews would be speculating on the situation. The scuttlebutt conversations for all ranks would range from common sense to wildly fanciful. The trick was to monitor the rumours and keep things under control. They would all find out soon enough what they would be expected to deal with and the risks that went with it.

He had set things in motion to begin preparations for this campaign; his aides and secretary were zealously writing up the orders and reports for his review and signatures, the other senior officers had departed in their turn, leaving him at loose ends for the moment. Norrington decided to take advantage of the respite to order his thoughts and think through possible sequences of the coming venture. His habit for years had been to find a solitary vantage point where he could envisage scenarios without interruption; a habit that had stood him in good stead in his rapid rise through the ranks.

It was a fine clear night, the moon was not yet up and the stars were brilliant, a good time for thinking and the upper walkways appealed to him. Norrington recollected his escort and went to the entrance of his offices to release them to return to the barracks; he had no further need of them tonight and there was no reason to keep them from their rest. He paused to inform his staff where he planned to go, surprising none of them, and abandoned them to their labours.

Norrington opened the door, startling his sentry and waking one of the pair napping on the bench, both quietly snoring in their uncomfortable positions. Begg snapped to attention, eyes forward, whilst Murtogg roused and quickly followed suit, his eyes blinking sleepily in a sleep-rumpled face. Mullroy was apparently deep seas under and failed to wake in time, earning him a sudden kick to the nearest ankle, his best friend attempting to get him moving without drawing too much attention toward himself. Mullroy snorted and jerked awake, looking to Murtogg who obligingly jerked his head slightly, using his eyes and eyebrows to signal what was the matter. An old hand, Mullroy caught up his musket and stood to attention, doing his best to seem awake and alert...regardless of his actual state.

Norrington had watched all this, making no comment. His face was set in its usual stern expression, a subtle amusement showing in his eyes as he observed the pair pull themselves together. Deciding to take pity on his men, he mildly reminded the privates that he had, after all, given them leave to be at ease until he required their services.

"I have no further need of you men tonight. You have my permission to return to your barracks."

"Aye, Sir. Thank you, Sir." Murtogg and Mullroy drew themselves up and saluted smartly to Norrington who looked every bit the Commodore now in his pristine blue uniform and white wig, very different from the man they had escorted back to the fort.

"Good night, Sir."

"Gentlemen."

Side by side, the pair marched smartly down the hall and turned the corner, passing safely from commodorial sight. Norrington smiled slightly as he watched their departure, nodded to Begg and left in his turn, heading for the stairs to the upper walkways and the roof. He wanted neither escort for this nor distractions to his contemplation. Coming to the entrance he wanted, Norrington quickly ascended the narrow staircase and let himself out at the upper landing.

Glancing around, he determined that he was indeed the sole person up here this night and began to pace around the perimeter, pausing from time to time to peer down into the town or to the ships in harbour. Norrington continued this circuit for a time before deciding upon a suitable section of parapet that was in the deepest shadow. He rested his elbows comfortably on the stonework and gazed up into the night sky, by long habit seeking out the Pole Star first, low on the northern horizon, and orienting the constellations from its familiar brilliance. It was a fine, warm night and his wig was as hot and scratchy as ever, particularly after his evening of fencing practice. He saw no reason not to remove the thing, freeing his scalp to the breeze; the wig was an emblem of his rank and duty but there was no one here to witness his lapse from propriety, hence he permitted himself the brief indulgence.

Running both hands through his hair then massaging the back of his neck, he allowed his thoughts to roam over the situation. He had to prepare for any eventuality, leave sufficient protection for the port and the region, and still have enough ships and firepower to search out and deal with these pirates, raiders or whatever they were. The questions of their identity and intentions bothered him: who led them, who supplied them with goods and information, where did they go to ground; what were their purposes in abducting the settlers?

There had been no word from any of his sources, not even so much as a whisper, regarding these attacks. He would have to put the word out to his network of informants as soon as tonight, thus necessitating a clandestine visit to a waterfront den. Thinking about his own sources, Norrington speculated if anything would come of his parley with Jack Sparrow. The man would have connections that could prove useful, if only Sparrow was willing to tap them for the benefit of his friends in Port Royal and through the islands. He would have to bring up the subject of Sparrow's letter of marque when he paid a visit to the Governor on the morrow, might as well get that in hand whilst he had the chance.

Considering Sparrow, Norrington thought about the man's appearance in town this evening, his mouth quirking in a little smile at his thoughts. Cheeky blighter, sauntering in right under the noses of the Navy and Marines as if he had not a care in the world. He was curious how Sparrow had made his way here and where he had stashed his eminently recognizable ship; the Black Pearl would stand out among the trading vessels and the naval ships like a large sooty raven. For a moment, James reflected on what he might do were he in Sparrow's boots then he shrugged and got back to more important matters, resuming his pacing along the parapet walkway.

Norrington continued his musings until he felt he had identified enough possibilities to begin the campaign planning tomorrow afternoon. His officers would have had sufficient time to consider various actions and he wanted them to be ready for any eventualities. Fighting a ship at sea might make one feel alive from the excitement but nothing was guaranteed and he could be incapacitated or killed outright, leaving another to take over in his stead.

Replacing his wig carefully by feel, he checked the position of the constellations and estimated nearly two hours had passed. He enjoyed a last look at the stars in the densely dark sky overhead, knowing it would likely be a long time before he could indulge himself again. He was done here and made one last round of the perimeter until he came back to the landing and made his way down to his offices, blinking a bit as his eyes adjusted to the brighter light in the hallway.

Entering his offices again, Norrington saw that his secretary and aides were finishing their preparations of the orders, ready for his review and signature. Once he was done, then he could dismiss them for the night and see about his little jaunt outside the fort without having to make unnecessary explanations.

"Bring the completed documents in to me now and the others as you finish them. I want the orders delivered by nine o'clock tomorrow morning to their recipients. After I have reviewed and signed the orders, I will secure them in the strong box. Once that is done, you are dismissed for this evening. I want you back here at seven in the morning; be prepared to see to the delivery of the papers as soon as possible then."

"Yes, Sir," came the expected replies. Groves, the senior lieutenant present, inquired if there was anything else the Commodore needed them to do this night.

"I will require a carriage at ten. I will then pay my respects to the Governor and inform him of the situation at that time. Other than that, there is nothing left for tonight. Tomorrow we will begin to formulate our plans of action and to make ready for this hunt."

Norrington then returned to his office as his staff brought in the prepared orders. They had worked diligently while he had been up on the roof deck and had managed to complete all the orders that would be going out in the forenoon. He nodded approvingly at their efforts, pleased with their efficiency. He methodically read each document, signing it when he was satisfied with the wording and lightly sanding the ink to aid its drying. When each paper was sufficiently dry, he folded it and sealed it with the tape and wax his secretary had readied for his use. To complete it, he used his personal seal to impress the mark into the red wax. When all were done, he stowed them neatly in his strong box, locking it with the keys he kept on his person and put the thing into the cabinet, locking that in turn. While he attended to the locks, a stray thought ran through his thoughts, an image of Sparrow's agile hands delicately stroking over the strong box searching out its secrets. Shaking his head at the notion, Norrington tried to put the cocky pirate out of his mind and snorted lightly at that idea as well. "Cock Sparrow, indeed."

As they completed their tasks, his staff members bade him good night and made their departures to get what rest they could before they had to return in the morning. Norrington finally got around to making himself the tea they had brought into his office much earlier. Fortunately they knew his quirks and had left the pot of hot water over a flame and the tea itself ready for him to add to the water in his own time.

He settled in his desk chair, slouching comfortably whilst he sipped his tea, his thoughts looking ahead to the other errand he would be attending to before he saw his cot tonight. He did indeed have his own network of informants, not that many of them were aware of his identity or of how he made use of them. Norrington had another set of clothes and accoutrements locked away in a chest under his cot that he would use later.

He smiled at the irony, the uniform and the wig combined with his rank, made the Commodore very recognizable but remote, leaving the man beneath the trappings anonymous to all but a very few. He was well aware how people saw what they expected to see and had for some time worked on creating another identity that he could assume when needed. The more he thought about his own subterfuge, the more it gave rise to Norrington's belief that Jack Sparrow was more than equal in building his own deceptions. Each encounter with Sparrow showed Norrington more of the intriguing man who resided beneath the smoke and mirrors.

The sounds from the outer office had ceased some time ago; Norrington finished the last of his tea and rose to check for strays. His staff had completed their work for the night, stowed things away ready for the morrow and had departed after completing their assigned tasks. Satisfied, he returned to his tiny room and hauled the chest out from under the cot and hoisted it up onto the bed covers. Unlocking it, he raised the heavy lid and looked at the means by which his alter ego would be brought out.

The worn and patched breeches, faded grey and rather old fashioned were joined on the bed by an equally worn linen shirt, yellow with age and stained in places. A waistcoat of brown homespun with simple wooden buttons came out next, a dark patch visible where one pocket had been ripped. A colourful kerchief, the red only slightly faded by the harsh Caribbean sun, and a broad leather belt quickly joined the other garments. Reaching in, Norrington retrieved his heavy work shoes, scuffed and mended but still serviceable, and the threadbare cotton hose that went with them.

Stripping rapidly, he readied his costume, neatly stowing his uniform so that it would not be unduly wrinkled for his servant to deal with when it was next required. First he rubbed a bit of tan coloured pigment between his palms and lightly rubbed his hands over his face, neck, throat, hands and forearms, being careful to add the darker tones to where his skin would have been exposed to the sun's bite had he been what he would soon appear to be. He had not shaved since the early morning and now had a good day's growth of dark beard, adding to the image.

Washing his hands quickly, he then donned the shirt, rolling the sleeves up messily midway between his wrists and elbows, looping the kerchief around his neck and knotting it. The hose came next, secured below his knees and then the equally threadbare breeches. He picked up the waistcoat and shook it out, then put it on, buttoning it part way above and below his waist, finishing it with the belt.

His straight dark hair would do so he braided it and laced it with a leather thong, making sure to pull a few strands of hair loose so that they hung about his face. Norrington then checked to make sure the knife in the hidden sheath down the back of the waistcoat was securely in place and accessible to his hand. The shoes went on, nothing remarkable about them at all. A pouch of coin was tucked inside his waistcoat, with a few coins in a pocket, along with oddments typical of the common sailor he appeared to be, including a splicing fid and a length of cord that could be used as a weapons.

To complete the image, Norrington hooked the sheath of his old boarding cutlass onto the belt fittings and fished out one other item from a small box in the bottom of the chest. Laughing silently to himself, he carefully fitted his left ear with a gold hoop earring, thinking about the reactions that would fetch not only from his officers, but from Will, Elizabeth and their pirate friends. A hat, old and battered, was jammed onto his head and he checked the mirror one last time.

Satisfied that the Commodore was no longer in evidence, James quietly left his room and slipped through the back entrance to his offices, aiming for a window off an unused room where he could drop a rope over the wall. Letting himself into the room, he closed the door and opened the casement; it made only a whisper of noise as he prudently oiled the hinges on a regular basis. Securing his length of rope to a hidden hook just outside the window, Norrington paid it out gently over the wall. In a move that might have surprised some of his men, Norrington then took hold of his line and swung lithely over the window ledge and down a short ways. He pushed the window to and let himself down hand over hand like any top hand, disturbing the night as little as an experienced thief.

Reaching the ground, he left the rope secured but carefully tucked it as out of sight as he could manage, ready for his return. He picked up a bit of dirt and made sure his hands and nails had some grime, rubbing it into his knuckles. Satisfied that he had made his exit without attracting notice, Norrington then made his way over the path around the fort and down into the town along the back ways. His destination was a particular waterfront tavern, known to host the less law-abiding citizens of Port Royal. Although the night was dark, he knew the byways well enough to avoid hazards, aided by the light of the moon that was rising, cautiously keeping his ears open in case of footpads or the Watch.

Moving quickly, it did not take him long until he could see the torches burning in front of the seedy tavern, the yellow glow from rush lights and tallow candles showing through the glass and open door. It might not be Tortuga but even in Port Royal, the night creatures were alive and well and going strong, judging by the rowdy noise he could hear. The Navy and Marines kept the peace during the day but at night the waterfront had its own rules. James approached the entrance to the Old Goat as would any sailor in search of drink, his posture and gait that of a man who had been at sea for some time. Pushing the door open, he was met with the blue haze of pipe smoke and the reek of sour ales and unwashed bodies, a ripe fug that curled around his body, ushering him inside.

7


	6. Chapter 6

A Kettle of Hawks

Disclaimer: Recognizable characters belong to the Mouse. Strictly for pleasure, no profit is being made or dreamt of. Not beta'd. Mistakes are mine.

Note: Time frame is essentially early 18th Century. Aside from the obvious, place names are fictitious. The naval details are mostly based from historic records or descriptions and are interpreted to suit the story. All going well, the story should remain true to its time and place, at least as much as the author's imagination is able to manage.

**Chapter Six. **

Jack watched indulgently as Will held his father's letters with reverent hands, a look of wonder still showing on his youthful face. The gift had been wholly unexpected; Will had had no inkling that his father had written the missives nor that Jack had been able to preserve them all through the dark years. Other than the gold medallion, he had managed to save nothing of his family and even that had been lost to him for years and, in the end, given back to the Aztec gods.

Here were words his father had written for his wife and young son in the event that he would not be able to tell them in person. Will lifted the pages up to his face and sniffed, wondering if there would be any hint of his father's familiar scent after so much time. He could almost imagine the odour of the tobacco his father had favoured but the smell of sea and ship lay more strongly over anything resembling his father that he could sense. Will opened the letters carefully, respectfully, placing them onto his lap. He did not recall seeing the writing before, the lines strongly inked but done with painstaking care and considerable effort, not at all like Jack's rapid elegant scrawl or the fine copperplate Elizabeth had been taught.

The paper was a bit foxed and stained on some of the edges, torn a little, here and there. The folds showed where the pages had been folded and refolded several times, hinting that the writing had been done over a period of time. The ink itself showed variations in colour, some passages had even faded a little into a softer brown rather than the heavy black on other sections. Some of the pages had cut edges, others the original deckle, ragged and soft. Will fingered the edges and the surface of several of the pages, passing his fingers reverently over the paper, following the lines of sentences, trying to see his father writing them, to recall his father's face as the son remembered him.

"How did you ever manage to keep these letters safe from Barbossa, Jack?" Will inquired, still feeling disbelief at the achievement. Jack had lost everything save for a few personal effects for a decade and his father had been cast overboard with a cannon tied to him, at least according to Pintel and Ragetti. The curse had been broken in the cavern on the Isla de Muerta but no one knew with any certitude what had been the true outcome for one Bootstrap Bill Turner, good man and good pirate. Will doubted that he would ever learn the truth of his father's eventual fate but for now, he would cherish this unexpected link to his parent in the pages Jack had managed to preserve by some miracle.

"The Black Pearl is my own ship, William, and there was more to her than ever Hector Barbossa knew about. She kept secrets from him, though I don't know for sure how arduously he searched for hidden things. I wouldn't put it past that filthy monkey with its sneaking little hands to get into all sorts of nooks and crannies, but the Pearl was constructed to have certain safe places. It wasn't just for show that she was so heavily decorated, there were other uses for all that carving, especially in the great cabin. Barbossa did not treat the Pearl well those years that he had her and she did not appreciate how he handled her, not at all, so she was unwilling to give up her secrets. It may be that he didn't try all that hard anyway, given how the curse of the Aztec gods dulled the senses while feeding the blood lust."

Will listened quietly while Jack Sparrow speculated on the survival of Bill's letters. He could feel Jack's distaste for the treatment his ship had received at the hands of a one-time fellow crewman and wondered in turn just how many secrets the Black Pearl still held within her massive oaken timbers. Jack, being Jack, was a man with many layers and Will was beginning to appreciate how complex a man his friend was.

Elizabeth had stayed seated beside Will, pressed up against his arm to lend her support whilst he examined the letters. She had remained silent to this point; they were Will's present and she imagined it must have felt like a lightning bolt would feel. She watched both Will and Jack as they talked and the expressions she saw on Jack's face gave her to believe that he had cared very much for William Turner the Elder and his family.

She was still in some awe at the miracle of these links to the past having survived all those years aboard a cursed ship with a cursed crew. Jack had saved his sadly derelict Black Pearl and had almost finished restoring her to her glory, eradicating the years of abuse under Barbossa with single-minded determination and a substantial amount of the treasure from the cavern on the black isle. Most people would never have thought simple letters were important enough to the likes of Jack Sparrow that he would take such pains to preserve them.

Elizabeth wanted to hear more details about Will's family, and through them, her unlikely pirate friend. Her curiosity was strong but she also wished fervently, for his own sake, that Will should have as many memories of them as he could acquire. She had known him as an orphaned boy having to make his lonely way in the world and knew something of the pain he felt for the loss of his family.

"Jack. You knew Will's father very well, obviously. Did you also know his mother? He's told me a bit about her but you would have known her as an adult and a friend. What were they like? Will as a child? His parents? What was his mother's name? Would you tell us about those times, please, Jack?"

"What were they like, you ask, young missy?" Jack's eyes took on a distant look as he reached for the memories, good times and ill, carefully stowed in the holds of his mind. His mind clearly on the past, he answered her questions in a quiet, reminiscent voice.

"Will's mother's name was Mary Anne Mennell and she came of good yeoman stock from Kent. She was a merry lass, hair the colour of ripe horse chestnuts in the fall and eyes like forget-me-nots. Not so tall as your own self, she came up to my chin if she stood straight and proud. Bill always thought the sun rose and set on her and they fit together like they were made for each other. Mary Anne had a sense of humour and a joyful way about her but she also had a core of steel when she needed it. She loved to dance, to sing, and everyone who came to know her felt his or her heart lighten just by being near her."

"Bill saw her one day when he was just a young fellow of fourteen and she just a little bit of a thing, couldn't have been more than ten years of age, so he told me, but he told her he would wait for her to grow up and that they would be wed. Seems she told him that she would decide for herself when she was all grown up, who she would be a-marryin' and that he wasn't in the running at all. He promised her that he would come back when she was sixteen and then they would see what they would see. Bill wasn't the best at courtin', you understand, but he knew what he wanted and was willing to wait for her."

"I didn't know them at that time but heard the story later on, before Will here was born. I wasn't there when he came into the world but I heard how difficult the birth was for Mary Anne. It was a long time before she was recovered, at least mostly, but you never saw two sensible people act so silly over such a wee thing as Will was. They wanted to have more children, to give him brothers and sisters to play with and to have a large and loving family. But it was not to be, no matter how hard they wished for it."

Will listened intently as Jack described his parents and his own arrival in the world. He remembered his mother being frail and that she sickened easily in wet weather. His father was often at sea for long periods, a merchant seaman was what Will had always believed his father to be until Jack had told him that Bill Turner had been a good pirate.

"Jack, you told me on board the Interceptor that my father was a pirate but I had always been told he was an honest man, a merchant seaman. Was there ever any truth to that or was he always a pirate and a wanted man?"

"Will, most pirates don't start off going to sea to become pirate. It's almost always to do with circumstances. Bill came from a family of merchants that had several cargo vessels. Not large, mind you, but good solid boats that a man could earn a living on. Mostly they traded around England and over to the Continent. The family was doing well enough to live decently until they began to lose their boats in gales or accidents, things that can happen to any who do business on the seas. Bill was the only one of his immediate family left after their last vessel foundered off Beachy Head along the Channel. To make matters worse, it had been outbound with a full cargo."

"After that, Will's parents tried to make a go of it by whatever means they could. Mary Anne was a fine hat maker but her health was failing. Bill finally had to find a berth on a merchantman heading out for the islands here. He was able to make a couple of trips and brought home what he could to support his little family but it was getting harder and harder. The last trip decided for him that he had to do something drastic and when that ship was boarded by pirates, they made him an offer because they needed skilled hands, which he was, of course. He knew there was a chance to stay alive and maybe acquire enough treasure to save his wife and little son from a life of poverty and need."

"So, you see, young William, your father was not a pirate by choice but he was a good man, a good father and husband. The fates were not kind, as they often aren't, but he did what he had to do and that's all that a man can do, in the end. Bootstrap was an able man and took to pirating like he'd been born to it. He always had a good eye for sizing up a ship and its crew and how things would go in a confrontation. We never had any serious fallings out until Barbossa came aboard, Bill thought he was capable enough but never seemed to warm to him. Didn't matter in the end, Barbossa got rid of both of us and went about his killing and pillaging, God curse his black heart, using the Pearl most foul."

Will had taken Elizabeth's hand not long after Jack had begun his tale and he held on to her tightly, almost to the point of pain, at some parts of the account. There had been a lot about his parents that Will had not known, after all, he had only been a child when his father disappeared and just a lad when his mother's health had failed and she died. He was glad Bill had been the honest merchantman that his mother had always said he was and that the decision to become pirate had been one of desperation, not desire or bloodlust.

There was still a lot left that Jack had not touched upon that Will wanted to hear about. He did not know if the stories would be forthcoming tonight or at some other time but he felt it could do no harm to ask, seeing as Jack was in a more serious mood than usual. Elizabeth stirred beside him and, giving him a solid hug, kissed his cheek and stood; it was almost time for her to return to the mansion. John Coachman would be here very soon and she would make her farewells, hoping that Jack would divulge more about her Will's parents without her presence.

For his part, Jack was recalling some of the escapades he and Bill had gotten into and was not of a mind to relate those stories to the young people at this time, perhaps never. Some things were probably best kept to those who would appreciate them. He looked on indulgently as Elizabeth offered her support to her young man; he was pleased she had had the sense to sit still and let Will absorb and begin to process the shock of Bill's missives, probably the only legacy that would be appreciated.

He helped Elizabeth put the spices and baubles back into the wooden box, liking that she had received his gifts favourably. He was still of a mind that she was more endowed with pirate tendencies than Will would ever be but for now, he decided that thought should stay behind his teeth, lest he get slapped again.

By the time Elizabeth had gathered her things, the coachman was at the door to take her back to the Governor's mansion. She hugged Jack and kissed his cheek, thanking him again for the unexpected presents, and for what he had managed to do for Will. Her things were lovely and valuable but the letters were beyond price to Will Turner.

It had been a surprising evening, what with James allowing himself to fence with Jack, the gifts and the letters, all on top of a visit from her favourite pirate, however exasperating he was at times. She had a feeling that such pleasant sessions would be in short supply, given the bit of news she had heard that drew James back to the fort. She would inquire of her father what had occurred, he would be certain to be one of the first informed, given his position of authority in Jamaica.

Will stood up and embraced his lady love, kissing her chastely, before escorting her to the door and into the coachman's care. They made their farewells, being careful to keep Jack out of sight, lest unfriendly eyes should catch a glimpse of their pirate. Will closed the door when Elizabeth had passed from sight and barred it for the night; he was not of a mind to entertain more visitors when he had an opportunity to relieve Jack of more details about his parents. Will knew there was only a limited time left that Jack should remain in the town and that he had to make his way under cover of darkness back to the Pearl, or at least, away from Port Royal.

After the door had been secured for the night, Will looked around for the pirate and found Jack examining the swords and other cutlery up in the racks. He stepped down and went over to his friend, asking if Jack saw something he liked.

"You've been keeping busy, making all these sharp, shiny things. Isn't Elizabeth keeping you dancing attendance on her sufficiently?"

"I have to make a decent living to support a wife, Jack. Elizabeth is accustomed to a lot more than I can give her without making a name for myself. It will be hard enough for her, if she weds me, to make the changes from the gentry to a commoner's way of life."

"Don't worry so much, whelp. She loves you for what you are. Besides, she will help you make that name as long as you keep improving in the quality of swords you produce. Elizabeth and her father, even people like Norrington, have the connections to get you in the doorway; after that, it's up to you to prove your worth and that is something you can do. So don't balk at using a friendly leg up, as it were."

"Another thing to remember, Will. Your parents might not have been of the nobility but they were not peasants, either. They were both of good English stock, you would likely call them yeoman stock, comes to that. Nothing to be ashamed of on either side, but p'raps best not to be mentioning Bill's later profession. Just on principle, you understand, eh?"

"Will you tell me more about my parents before you have to leave tonight, Jack? Anything would be welcome, to let me see them through your eyes."

"Very well, Will, I'll stay for a while longer and then really must be on my way. I think there's something coming over the horizon and I want to get back to the Pearl and out to sea before it comes."

Will frowned at that last statement but forbore to pressure Jack for any more on the point; whatever was coming, they would deal with it as best they could. Until then, he would accept whatever Jack was willing to relate and hope that his slippery friend was indeed telling him the truth.

7


	7. Smoke

A Kettle of Hawks

Disclaimer: Recognizable characters belong to the Mouse. Strictly for pleasure, no profit is being made or dreamt of. Mistakes are mine.

Note: Time frame is essentially early 18th Century. Aside from the obvious, place names are fictitious. The naval details are mostly based from historic records or descriptions and are interpreted to suit the story. All going well, the story should remain true to its time and place, at least as much as the author's imagination is able to oblige.

A/N: As always, many thanks to those who read and those who review. It's always encouraging to get the feed back; helps the grey cells function.

**Chapter Seven.**

The Old Goat was typical of its class of establishment. Port Royal in its wilder days had been as raunchy and disorderly a port to be found anywhere in the Americas, and beyond for that matter. Nowadays, the harbour front was a bit quieter, at least to the casual observer but appearances could deceive.

Most of its windows were closed by simple shutters, the glass reserved for only two of the windows along the front of the ground floor and a couple in the first storey above. At one time, the building had been whitewashed but that was obviously some time in the distant past, given its current dingy grey. Above the entrance hung a sign, the old black goat with the malevolent yellow eyes proclaiming its name to any passer-by. The tavern suited its clientele, whether or not they were on good terms with the law hereabouts. It was a known haunt of thieves, cutpurses, prostitutes and others ready and willing to prey upon the unwary entering its dark confines. What deeds took place behind its closed doors, away from prying eyes, was anyone's guess.

Some things just did not change, Norrington thought to himself, looking around at a number of familiar faces and bodies as he made his way over to where the publican stood behind the high counter in the tavern. He was fairly certain some of them had been ensconced in the same chairs on his last visit to the Goat. The heavy set man in the dirty apron looked over to him as he approached, nodding in greeting; a former bare knuckle fighter, the man kept the peace in his establishment with a heavy hand and a reputation for using it. His scarred face and misshapen nose and ears only reinforced his authority.

"Well, it's been a time since we 'ad you in here last, man. What'll you 'ave tonight?" Obadiah Kelley asked, the hard tones of his South Shields birthplace not diminished the slightest after decades in the Caribbean, putting the lie to his Irish name.

"Ale, same's usual, Mr. Kelley," the reply came in a Devon accent typical of a Plymouth man.

"I've just opened a new cask, tastes a good'un, too. Not too much head on it and nicely bitter, just the way you lads from the south like it."

Kelley drew a drink for his customer and briskly deposited the leather tankard on the worn and grubby counter, a simple heavy slab of adzed wood, resting on empty barrels on a tamped clay floor. Not fancy but then it was not prone to catch fire either and cheap enough to mend when the customers got out of hand. Norrington fished the appropriate coin out of his pocket, placing it in front of Kelley before taking up the tankard, knowing that was the rule the man had laid down. It always surprised him that Kelley was able to pick up anything as small as a coin with the battered and thickened fingers, stiff with scar tissue.

Taking a swig of the ale, Norrington found the only thing it had in common with the good ales of the south of England was its lack of a thick foam head, otherwise it was as dubious in quality as the house itself. He expected it, having tasted and survived its predecessors on previous visits. Raising the tankard, he praised the publican's ale, not above using flattery to ease his way.

"That's a right fine drink, Mr. Kelley. Reminds me of home, it does."

"Whereabouts is 'ome, Jem Cooper? You 'ave the voice of Devon, an I mistake it not."

"You've a good ear, there. Plymouth is home, up by St. Budeaux, though it's been years since I went back. Came out here when I was naught but a young lad."

"Aye, Plymouth 'as spawned many good sailors, make no mistake."

"There's none better. Drake his own self was a Plymouth man, you know."

Giving a nod to Kelley, Jem Cooper took himself off to find a seat to pass some time with the other drinkers. Most of the tables were occupied but he did find one off to the side where he could sit away from the brightest lights and still be able to see most of the patrons in the establishment this night. Taking a seat, he stretched out his long legs comfortably, disregarding the condition of the table and the chair. He held the tankard up to his mouth, casually glancing around as he did so, the striking colour of his deep set eyes lost in the gloom and further hidden by the strands of hair falling loosely over his face. He nodded companionably to the two men at the table, recognizing one as a local supplier of questionable goods that the Watch had not yet been able to catch. The other seemed to be a common seaman, negotiating some sort of wager with the man. Cooper kept a casual eye on the pair, more from habit than any particular desire to deal with them as he was not present in his regular capacity.

Cooper noticed a pair of sailors in the inglenook of the soot stained fireplace on the far wall. Clearly newly arrived, they were conversing quietly but an air of watchfulness was apparent to an observant onlooker. They appeared to be waiting for someone as every time the door to the street opened, their attention flashed to it though they did not stare overtly at each newcomer. Cooper found the two people of some interest, given that he recognized the burly older man, the apparent leader, as a former Navy man once under his command. Under other circumstances, he might have taken action but he had little interest in them; tonight he sought different quarry.

Setting his tankard down on the table beside him, Cooper dug down into his waistcoat pocket, fishing out a worn pipe and an equally aged green leather tobacco pouch. Relaxing back in the chair, he casually shaved tobacco off the twisted plug with his small knife and filled the red clay bowl, using his thumb to tamp the weed down. Satisfied that the pipe was ready, he reached over to the rush light on the table, holding the flame so that he could draw it into the tobacco, sucking air through the stem several times until the pipe was burning well. All the while he was performing the mundane tasks his eyes were scanning surreptitiously for the man he had come in search of, a local businessman of an unscrupulous nature but one who had sources of information of use to Cooper.

He was in luck tonight, over on the south side of the tavern the man he sought was taking a meal and handling some sort of business with a pair of rough looking men, one of whom had a lumpy hessian sack tucked under the table by his feet. One of the local working women was keeping them company; overpainted and underdressed, the woman typical of those who plied their trade at the Goat.

A momentary decrease in the volume of noise caught his attention and Cooper shifted slightly to seek the reason. He had not far to look as a man in a dark coat and tricorn hat had just slipped in from the street. Evidently he was the party the sailors by the fire had been waiting for as they made room for the slender man to take his place on the bench. The former Navy man handed the latecomer a tankard as soon as he had sat down.

Cooper had no difficulty recognizing the newcomer and managed to keep his appreciation of the irony of the situation from his face; the pirate he was not actively seeking kept appearing under his nose this night. He wondered idly in passing if he would have had as many encounters had he indeed been pirate hunting. However, this was no time to draw undue attention to himself so he returned to the matter at hand.

He watched them for a moment from the corner of his eye, puffing a thin stream of bluish smoke out from under the hat sloppily jammed on his head as the little group huddled together in conversation and then dismissed them as he returned his attention to the man he had come to see tonight. He waited patiently for the conclusion of the business being negotiated. It did not take long until the rough pair shoved the bag under the table to the buyer and scraped up the coin pushed across the table to them. The men removed themselves quickly, taking their doxy with them, having no further interest in remaining at the table, their purses now able to fund other, more interesting activities.

Cooper gave the older man a little while to settle, then rose and wandered over to the table after fetching a dark bottle of rough spirits to ease his way. He caught the man's eye and raised the bottle slightly, tacitly asking for permission to sit at the table with a hoist of his brows. Not surprisingly, his offer was accepted with little hesitation; after all, they had had business dealings on previous occasions. Cooper took a seat that kept his back to the wall and from which he could keep the rest of the room in sight, a precaution that mirrored the position that the other man was occupying. He opened the bottle and gestured for the other to pour himself a drink.

For a moment, they sipped their drinks in silence. Cooper, having finished his pipe, tapped it lightly on the side of the table, knocking the dottle out to add to the detritus on the floor. He kept the old pipe in his hands, gently rubbing the pad of his thumb over the bowl and stem, the actions seeming to make him more innocuous than he might have been taken for in this den of thieves and ruffians.

"Thank'ee for the rum, Cooper. It's been quite some time since last we did business. What brings you out my way this night?"

"Mayhap I've come across some information might be of interest to you, Mister Jenkins. There's been some goings on I've 'eard about that have the Navy lads up in arms."

"Aye, I've noticed they seem to be gettin' stirred up over summat this night but I've not yet heard any news what it may be about." Jenkins, a heavy set man dressed respectably in decent brown broadcloth, fixed a speculative look on his visitor.

"Seems there's a new lot of raiders makin' free with some of the outlying settlements. I was thinkin' this new lot might prove poor for business 'ereabouts. I've not heard anything to tell who they are, just that they've been attacking some villages, killin' and lootin' and making off with people as well. Nothing so far to tell if they be Frenchies or Dons but there's enough o' them to fetch the Navy down on them."

"Not so a good thing for decent businessmen like ourselves, eh? Meself, I dislike these interferin' foreigners makin' free in our waters."

"Aye, makes it hard to make an honest shillin'. Still and all, there might be some opportunities for those that keep their wits about them and their eyes open. Iffen the Commodore is busy chasing these pirates, then he won't have much time to concern himself with our little business dealings, eh?"

"You make a good point there, Cooper. In fact, I like the way you think, man. There be a few people I need to put the word out to, see what comes o' that, then go on from there."

While the men had been conversing, one of the trio by the fire rose from his seat and swayed and danced around other drinkers over to Jenkins' table, coming to a halt beside Cooper. Resting a be-ringed hand on the table beside Cooper, the man leaned toward Jenkins, his wild mane of dark hair, interlaced with beads and shiny things, falling down between him and the seated man.

"Your pardon, mate. Horace, when you've a moment, there's something I'd like to discuss with you but it can wait until you're done with this gentleman." The exotic man's free hand waved about extravagantly, elaborating on his words.

"We won't be long, Jack. Just go back over there with your crew and try not to draw too much attention to yourself, you're recognizable through the Caribbean, even when you think you're being inconspicuous. This 'ere is Port Royal, after all, even in the Goat. You never know when someone might be watching too close."

Jenkins shooed the man away back to his mates by the fire and returned to his conversation with Jem Cooper. Cooper had used the moment to refill his pipe, being mindful to keep his head turned down; using his hat to shield his face from Jack's inquisitive eyes, hoping that performing such a mundane task would preserve his anonymity. After all, Jack would not expect to see a stiff-necked English commodore in this venue; the danger of recognition was a bit higher after their little fencing play earlier but not excessively so. The real difficulty for the moment was keeping his sense of humour from making mischief with the opportunity that presented itself so temptingly. He was nearly finished here, one last detail and then he could return to his quarters for what remained of the night.

"I can see you're a busy man, Mister Jenkins, so I won't be keepin' you from your business for much longer. If, by chance, I come by information that could be of use to you, what would you be willin' to offer in exchange for it? In turn, if you happen to come by something of interest to other parties who are in trade hereabouts, I would be happy to pass it along to them. For a fair price, o' course."

Jenkins sat forward in his chair, enjoying the circuitous conversation. He had dealt with Cooper before and the information the man provided had proven sound on those occasions. This new threat was one he did not care for at all; the raiders were not the regular parties, with known and predictable behaviour. He hoped the Navy would be able to deal with them quickly, otherwise the attacks would cut into his business dealings through the islands. The gamekeepers in their fancy uniforms might as well make themselves useful, not to mention keeping their noses out of his affairs. Now he just had to decide what he might be willing to offer for Cooper's news and what he himself would be willing to put on the table if the man came back to him with useful news.

"Well, Mister Cooper, I b'lieve we can come to an arrangement on this matter. The price would depend, naturally, on the quality of the information and its timeliness. You've been reliable in our past dealings so I'm most likely to look kindly on whatever you can provide."

"Sounds a fair start to me. Would you join me in a drink to our new accord, then?"

"Aye, don't mind if I do, at that."

With that, Cooper poured a generous amount into Jenkins' cup and a more modest amount into his own tankard, returning the bottle to its place on the table. They hoisted their cups and rapped them together and then drank down their rum to seal their bargain. When they had finished, each man put his cup down with a loud thud, the sounds lost in the ambient noise surrounding them in the tavern. Only one patron noticed them conclude their business and made to rise to come over to take Cooper's place at Jenkins' table.

Cooper had no further business to attend to here so he finished his pipe for the second time, knocked the dottle out onto the floor and ground the embers into the dirt to make sure no fire would start (perish the thought). Bidding farewell to Jenkins, Cooper stood, stretched his back a little, not so much so as to draw attention, and made his unhurried way over to the door to depart the premises.

On his way, he passed the dark man with the exotically beaded and braided hair, moving aside politely as they sidestepped each other between two tables. The other chap swayed around him as if caught in a high wind inside the Old Goat and continued over to his own meeting with Jenkins. Cooper bobbed an eyebrow at the performance however neither man paused in his chosen path. Cooper exited the Old Goat and slipped into the night, not seeing the exotic man pause for a beat then continue on his way, a look of puzzlement twitching his brows together for an instant.

Easing into the night air, Norrington felt as if he should take a deep breath to clear his lungs from the miasma inside the Goat but refrained, knowing from prior experience that the street and alleyway here was as foul in its turn. He was satisfied with his visit; with luck, it would pay off with information about the raiders or, if not them specifically, then some other wrongdoers who needed to be dealt with. He would put word out to some of his other sources by alternate means.

The presence of Jack Sparrow and some of his crew unexpected but he was perfectly aware that their encounter could have taken a more drastic turn, particularly for himself. Norrington slipped away to return to his quarters via the same route he had taken earlier, there was still time for some rest and he intended to make as much use of that as he could whilst he had the opportunity. _Captain_ Jack Sparrow would just have to wait his turn.

Inside the Goat, Jack sat himself down at Jenkins' table, making his greeting to the older man. After the usual run of pleasantries, he inquired as to the identity of the man who had been parlaying with the news monger.

"Oh, him. He's a bloke I sometimes do business with, Jack. He comes into the Goat from time to time; he's been reliable in his goods so I've kept him on."

"Seems like I've seen the fellow somewheres before," Jack muttered, to himself more than to Jenkins. "It'll come to me sooner or later. Enough of him, let's get back to what I wanted to talk to you about."

"You mean it wasn't just for my pretty blue eyes that you came into Port Royal, Jack?" Jenkins attempted to be coy.

Jack merely smiled at the man's heavy handed attempt at wit and proceeded to go into his own proposal. He and his crew had been in port long enough and Jack wanted to get out of the place and back to the Pearl as much as Gibbs and Anamaria did. It had proven an interesting evening but the tide was due to change and it was not that long until daybreak. He was too noticeable for the citizenry of Port Royal to not recognize and raise the alarm; however, his business with Jenkins would only take a few moments and then they would be safely off into what darkness remained.

8


	8. Before the Storm

A Kettle of Hawks

Disclaimer: Recognizable characters belong to the Mouse. Strictly for pleasure, no profit is being made or dreamt of. Mistakes are mine.

Rating: PG 13

Note: Time frame is essentially early 18th Century. Aside from the obvious, place names are fictitious. The naval details are mostly based from historic records or descriptions and are interpreted to suit the story. All going well, the story should remain true to its time and place, at least as much as the author's imagination is able to oblige.

**Chapter Eight. Before the Storm.**

The night was well advanced by the time Norrington made his way back to the fort; he had been careful to take the lesser paths and keep out of sight until he returned to where he had hidden his rope. Cautiously, he remained obscured in the deepest shadows and waited a few moments, to be certain there was no one around to see him haul himself up to the window. Satisfied that he was alone, James released the rope from its hidden place and gently pulled it away from the wall, tugging firmly to check that his knot held. He had no actual concern that it would not; after all his years as a midshipman learning to do his knot work correctly, it would be disgraceful to find he had forgotten it.

He took a good grip on the manila and hoisted himself up hand over hand like any experienced seaman, carefully using his feet as silently as possible, until he reached his target, the window he had left pulled to. Quietly easing it open, he leaned into the room and peered around. It really would not do to be caught so close to his quarters and find himself having to explain what the Commodore was doing, skulking about Port Royal in the middle of the night. Figuring he was safe, Norrington hoisted himself up onto the window ledge and tucked first one long leg and then the other into the room.

He raised his rope quietly, neatly coiling it over his elbow from long practice, and then softly closed the window and secured the latch. He turned, intending to go back to his quarters to remove the evidence of his late night excursion when a quiet voice startled him as the man inquired if James had had an enjoyable evening wherever it was he had been catting about.

Norrington managed to not gasp in surprise, partly because he had been prepared in the event of discovery and partly due to his recognition of the voice. It was perfectly familiar to him; he had known that voice since he was a snotty-nosed midshipman on the _Fortune_ and the other had come aboard to join the ranks of the junior officers.

"Bloody hell, Theo, are you trying to stop my heart?" Norrington whispered furiously, his temper a bit strained at being caught out, even by a trusted friend.

"It's not me who's been discovered climbing into windows in the night watches, James, although you do skulk quite well…for a Commodore, that is." Groves' answer was made just as quietly but without the furious overtone: sometimes it paid to be in the right.

Norrington paused whilst he considered that last insult. Groves was one of the very few people he permitted to see the man under the rank but that did not excuse him from suitable payback, when time permitted. In their younger days, the pair had been notorious for the pranks they had perpetrated. With practice, they had become quite proficient at eluding the blame and subsequent punishment, however well merited. These days Gillette had taken over when Norrington's rise in rank became an obstacle to such illicit pleasures. Fortunately for the lieutenant, fitting retaliation would have to wait until the current crisis had been resolved.

"Who else suspects that I've been out tonight, Theo?"

"So far as I am aware, I am the only one suspicious and that's only because I know you. I thought that the least I could do would be to wait up and make sure that you got in safely from your little jaunt."

"Thank you for that."

"That does not mean that I don't think you were taking a chance."

"Not much of one, Theo, I was being careful. I don't like the sound of these damned raiders who are attacking our settlements and I wanted to get a sense if they are known to our less lawful citizenry. Put the word out as well that there's profit to be had for the right information. Meantime, I want to get back and out of these clothes before someone else stumbles along."

Norrington took a last rapid glance around and led the way back to his quarters, Groves following quietly behind him. Once in his room, Norrington stripped out of his disguise, neatly stowing the garments and other things back in their chest, prudently re-locking the lid, a thin linen towel wrapped snugly around his hips. Refraining from comment for the moment, Groves poured fresh water in to the wash basin, readying it for the other to scrape off the dirt and colouring that had aided in altering his appearance. James scoured himself down as thoroughly as he could by the light of a branch of candles, trying not only to remove the grime but the smell from the Goat that seemed to cling to every pore and strand of hair.

He donned the garments he usually used for sleeping when in the fort and scrubbed his hair with the towel, drying off what he could. It was warm enough tonight that he would be presentable by morning, hopefully showing no signs of his late night excursion down to the waterfront dive. Groves proffered a glass of wine to his errant commander, poured another for himself and then sat down on the edge of the bed, making himself comfortable while he waited for his friend to relate the details of his nocturnal ramble.

Norrington looked over at Groves, estimating how much the man would insist on hearing from him. Making his decision, he sat down in turn, taking first a good swallow to compose himself, then began to relate his tale, gesturing to the chest holding his disguise.

"I went down to the Old Goat, as my other self is an occasional customer there and is accepted now with little hesitation. The man I wanted to meet with has his finger into many pies and both buys and sells information. He had just begun to hear about the raids but did not have knowledge of the perpetrators; in fact, he seemed quite affronted by their actions and displeased the Navy is not earning its keep hunting them down post haste. I agreed with him, after all, one must be polite in such circumstances. We had a bit of conversation over a tankard and struck a bargain whereby we would be willing to either exchange or buy information regarding the raiders."

"What's the going rate nowadays, for information coming from the port's commander?"

"Don't be facetious, Theo, it does not become you."

"Nonsense, that's what junior officers are good for, you know."

"Ah, so you are stating that you are good for something, after all?"

"Now who's being facetious?"

After the satisfactory exchange of sniping, both men returned to their discussion of the night's business, a matter of much greater import than their comfortable bickering.

"We did not actually exchange information, aside from enquiring about the attacks. He is not aware of my actual identity and our past dealings have been quite useful. Rather profitable as well, I might add, if on a modest scale."

"Thinking of a new career, are you, James?"

"Who knows? If I do not succeed in quelling these attacks and punishing the perpetrators, I may be in search of other employment soon. Meanwhile, we will make our preparations to sail as soon as practicable."

Norrington paused to gather his thoughts and plans. Refilling his glass, he took a good sip of the wine, a much better class of drink than what he had had to imbibe earlier. He appreciated Groves' choice, rolling it around his mouth as it expunged the remaining taste of the sad brew at the Goat.

"That puts me in mind of something."

"Aye?"

"I came across one of your idols this evening."

"My idol? Who on earth do you mean?"

"Your favourite pirate. Who else?"

"Pirate? You cannot mean Jack Sparrow, James?"

"What other pirate would I be referring to, Theo? You made your admiration of him quite blatant."

"You mean, he was here? Tonight? Actually here in town?"

"I believe that is what I said." Norrington accompanied this with a pointed stare, belied by the humour in the eyes.

"Whatever was he doing here and what did you do when you came across him?"

"I was at the forge, practicing with Will Turner, Elizabeth Swann in attendance, and looked up to see a man I had spent a good deal of time hunting around the Caribbean. He came in to visit with the Turners and to pick up a new blade that Will made for him. Very fine one, too, I might add. As for what I did, I fenced with him for a time while Will and Elizabeth watched."

"You fenced with him…and did not arrest him, kill him or anything else?"

"Correct."

Groves was silent for several moments while he turned over his friend's comments. Shaking his head in some disbelief, he began to chuckle quietly to himself. Here was the Pirate Hunter himself not only declining to arrest the pirate who had escaped his hanging but actually fencing with him in the home of a mutual friend.

"Wish I had been there to see that, James. I would give a good deal to have been in the audience. Sparrow seems to come and go much as he wishes, even here in Port Royal, does he not?"

"You would have been quite entertained by the spectacle, I dare say."

"Well, tell me all. What sort of swordsman is he? I've only heard tales and seen some of his more daring escapades. Is he as good as you or Turner, say? What sort of style does he have?"

"Ah. That was a surprise in itself. Jack has a great deal of the classic schools in his play, when he is in a position to exercise it. It was quite interesting as the evening went on, not only did his style become more formal but his speech and mannerisms changed as well. I wish I knew what his origins are for he's definitely something out of the common way."

"So Sparrow is now Jack, is he?"

"We came to an accord. Captain Jack Sparrow and Commodore Norrington were left out of the affair, leaving Jack and James, to the great relief of their friends."

"Makes sense, I suppose. What else occurred?"

"I was afforded the privilege of witnessing Jack's interrogation by his two young friends as they also had noticed the changes to his mannerisms. Elizabeth, in particular, pursued him relentlessly until the pirate took refuge behind me. Made me thankful that I was not the focus of her attention. You will appreciate the irony of the situation, of course."

"Good God. Did you learn anything of Sparrow's origins, then?"

"Other than what I observed, nothing, merely that he confirmed my earlier impression that Miss Swann was very fortunate in the manner of pirate with whom she was marooned. We were interrupted just after that when Murtogg and Mullroy came to the door of the forge. Their news put an end to the session."

"I asked Sparrow point blank if he knew of these attacks and he gave me his word he did not. He may be an outlandish creature but he has kept his word before and now he's his ship back and a more loyal crew, he appears to have settled in to the role."

"So you left the three of them at the forge and returned to plan your campaign, then headed down to the waterfront to put out feelers. You've been a busy fellow tonight, James. Was there anything else that happened, before I leave you to your rest?"

"Well, when I was in the Goat, I chanced to notice a couple of sailors, newly in. One of them, a Mister Gibbs, sailed out with us on the passage from England years ago. He's become one of the crew of the _Black Pearl_ since that time; the other was likely part of her crew as well."

"And…?"

"And who should totter in but your favourite pirate."

"Again? Perhaps you should give up trying to catch him and just let him come in on his own. What happened then?"

"Yes, seems there's no escaping him tonight. He lurched over to the table where I was seated and asked my acquaintance for some of his time as he had things to discuss with him. It was all I could do to remain quiet when Sparrow stepped up beside me, resting his hand on the table right next to me."

"Irony is definitely the word. If you had been trying to capture him, he'd have been as elusive as ever. Yet here he is, running about the port, under foot at every turn. Unbelievable. My question now is how did he not recognize you? After all, he knows what you look like and if you were fencing earlier, then you weren't in your uniform and wig."

"I wore different clothes and a hat, kept my head down, filled my pipe and added some honest smoke to the general miasma of the place. His attention was not on me so I simply stayed quiet until he had been sent back to his corner and his shipmates. I suspect that he would recognize my voice, even in that crowd, although I did alter my accent and manner of speech. Sparrow's a sharp man so it would not have taken much to draw his attention. When I departed, we passed by each other as he made his way over to have his session with my acquaintance. I'll have to wait and see if he managed to recognize me but there was no indication of such by the time I left and came back to the fort."

Groves sipped at his wine, considering his friend's account of his evening on the town. As entertaining as it was, they had more serious things to deal with. He thought about Jack Sparrow and his actions since the episode of the undead pirates; there had been ships taken, looting done and other typical pirate activities but not one action against an English ship or settlement. In fact, the _Black Pearl_ had encountered a number of British vessels and had done them no harm at all. The ships and goods of other nations, in particular those unfriendly to England, had been the beneficiaries of Sparrow's attentions and wit.

"You know, James, it might be an idea to offer Sparrow and his crew a Letter of Marque and conditional pardon. They've been more friend than foe since we dealt with Barbossa and his lot. Why not make use of them?"

"You think so, do you, Theo? That we could turn Captain Jack Sparrow into a King's man?"

"Why not? Seems he's already made his choice. The _Black Pearl_ is a fine ship and she might as well be used for the good of the Crown and its colonies."

"I've already decided to approach the Governor in the morning on that matter when I go to inform him of these latest attacks. I see no sense in wasting a perfectly good resource, especially as I don't know what we will be up against when we go after the raiders."

"Hmm, wonder what Swann will say when you tell him about the Letter of Marque, James?"

"Somehow I doubt he would be very surprised, he is after all a politician and was the one who supplied the nonsense to justify Sparrow's escape after that fiasco of a hanging. His daughter has had a fascination for pirates since she was a child, including one Jack Sparrow, though now she limits it to the _Black Pearl_ and its crew."

"Well, I, for one, am glad that he got away, even if it did incense Gillette for a time. Life's more interesting around here with him very much alive."

"If Swann grants Sparrow a conditional pardon, then I will write the Letter authorising him to target enemies of England. If he chooses to accept then I expect you might have more opportunity to meet your hero and his ship without having to go all the way to Tortuga to do it."

"Something to look forward to. As for now, James, I know I'm tired enough to sleep where I'm sitting so you must be even more so. So to bed and get what rest you may for it promises to be a busy time very soon."

"Right. So take yourself off and I will get to my bed and the arms of Morpheus for what remains of the night."

"'Night, James."

With that, Groves made his departure, considerately closing the door to Norrington's little chamber as he left. For his part, James licked his fingers and thumb, pinching out what was left of the candles. He opened the window to catch what breeze there was, looking out to the harbour for a moment before crawling under the covers of his bed. For a brief moment, he thought about his unlikely evening, smiled ruefully to himself and slept.

"Come on, you two! Quit yer dawdlin' and get a move on. We have to get out of Port Royal and back to the ship before the Watch and any marine passing by notices us. You're too bloody easy to recognize, Jack."

Anamaria did not like being in the British stronghold, they had prices on their heads and it was far too close to Dead Man's Cay and its current occupants for her liking; she definitely had no desire to join their company. They had come in to visit on the quiet, look for any news that was of use to them and get out. She had had to wait for Jack to go play with his friends and then wait again while he finally got down to business at the Old Goat. She was ready to either prod the pair of idiots with her belt knife to get them moving faster or simply leave them behind to whatever fate wanted to do with them.

Gibbs took a last sip from his worn flask, a faithful friend that had remained with him no matter what adventures they had had together. He looked at Anamaria's back and was completely unsurprised to see it rigid with annoyance. Silently he looked over to Jack who had also noticed the irritable temper of his officer and was keeping a prudent silence for the moment. They looked at each other and then picked up their pace a bit; Anamaria had the right of it and they really did need to leave the port as soon as may be. Their skiff was tied up on the far side of the point and daybreak was coming.

While they went, Jack was thinking over the events of the evening. He had expected to have a nice little visit with the children, give them their presents and head out again, no one the wiser. The Commodore had been quite the surprise on several fronts; who would have thought that under all that mess of braid and wig was James, someone to whom Jack could relate and enjoy his company.

9


	9. Mercury Falling

A Kettle of Hawks

Disclaimer: Recognizable characters belong to the Mouse. Strictly for pleasure, no profit is being made or dreamt of. Mistakes are mine.

Rating: PG 13

Note: Time frame is essentially early 18th Century. Aside from the obvious, place names are fictitious. The naval details are mostly based from historic records or descriptions and are interpreted to suit the story. All going well, the story should remain true to its time and place, at least as much as the author's imagination is able to oblige.

**Chapter Nine. Mercury Falling.**

The sun had barely risen when the Commodore's killick knocked firmly on the door to the bedchamber and entered, rousing Norrington from a light slumber. The man brought in a can of hot water for washing and shaving, placing it by the stand for his officer's morning ablutions, checking that the razor, soap and towels were ready for use. He laid out the linen small clothes and the uniform for the day on the chair and placed the shoes, freshly polished, under the chair out of the way.

"Good mornin', sir. I 'ope you slept well."

"Good morning, Upshaw. I slept as well as could be expected, thank you."

"The maps and charts are ready for you and your secretary will be along shortly, sir. In the meantime, your breakfast is waiting in your office. Would you be wantin' anything further before then, sir?"

"No, thank you, that will be sufficient."

With that, Norrington dismissed the man and indulged in a long quivering stretch; he was somewhat stiff from his antics of the night before and realized in some irritation that his desk duties were taking their toll on his body. Casting off his bedcovers, he rose and quickly washed and shaved, preferring to do that task himself. The methodical application of soap and steel as he scraped off his night's growth of beard had a meditative aspect that aided in his taking up of the day's tasks; a simple routine but one he appreciated.

By the time he had finished dressing, he felt the weight of his responsibilities return to his shoulders as he donned the long waistcoat. The wig came next and he settled it into its place on his head, tucking in his sailor's queue and any loose strands of hair, knowing he would be as hot as Hades and sweating under it as he always was but he refused to shave his head in the manner most officers chose. Lastly came the dark blue jacket, really too heavy for the Jamaican climate, but necessary for his proper appearance. For all the discomfort, he wore the uniform with pride, both for his place in the service and for what it represented of his accomplishments. The hat he picked up and then headed out into his office to break his fast.

Breakfast was a frugal business; he had been long enough in the Tropics to have learned that the rich heavy meals typical of cold England were detrimental to his health. The Roman legions of old had known and understood this and had changed their diet in the hot lands they conquered; a student of the past, Norrington had been wise enough to benefit by their experience. His colleagues might be enamoured of, and nostalgic for, the dishes of the mother country but he had kept his health where many had failed. Finishing his fruit and porridge, he neatly set his dishes aside for his man to remove shortly.

His secretary had laid out the papers needing his attention and signature in one stack, the letters and packets just delivered, including requests from townspeople to a note from the Governor, placed next to them. Sighing, he rapidly read and signed the pages from the first lot; Wincott would process them anon. The fort and the ships always seemed to require a barge load of paper to keep them afloat and he had never seen an end to the lists, orders, reports and the like. He resented the miserable things for keeping him from the sea but he knew the paperwork was one of the prices he paid for his career; sometimes, in more private moments, he almost envied men like Sparrow for their apparent freedom.

The second pile of missives held no surprises. The Governor he would deal with later in the morning when he paid his visit to apprise Swann of the situation with the new threat. Most of the other letters were from townspeople, some complaining about trade not going their way, marines or sailors committing some sort of misdeeds, or shopkeepers wishing to unload God knew what on to an unsuspecting Navy. There were no murders or any matter that required his involvement at this time so he put them aside for his secretary and aide to handle.

He had just finished when Lieutenant Groves rapped on the door and entered, laden down with more sheaves of paper. Norrington confined his reaction to a dirty glare at the paperwork, not bothering to do more as he knew from long experience that there would be no escape for him, at least until he took the Dauntless out to go hunting. Groves caught the look and gave his commander a sympathetic shrug of commiseration as he placed the latest pile on the corner of the desk, squaring the edges of the pages neatly.

"My apologies, sir, but these are the documents you wished to verify prior to their distribution."

"Thank you, Mr. Groves. What word is there on the provisioning of the vessels for this enterprise?"

"The word went out early this morning to the quartermasters, pursers and the suppliers. Barring something unforeseen, we should be ready to sail per your schedule. Major Cuthbertson is choosing the roster of Marines to sail with each ship and those to remain with him to guard Port Royal. The doctor and his assistants are making their own preparations in the event we sustain heavy casualties."

As he mentioned the doctor's preparations, Groves grimaced in distaste at memories of previous dealings with the medical fraternity although he was aware how fortunate they were with Norrington's constant quest to improve his men's care and survival. The Commodore caught the expression and sympathised, he carried enough scars of his own to remind him of his times under the surgeon's knives, cauteries and needles.

"A necessary evil, Mr. Groves. We cannot sail without attempting to be as thoroughly prepared as possible. We at least have a competent and level-headed doctor to look out for us."

"I know, sir, but I still shudder at some of the memories. That's a profession I would never wish to take on."

"Perhaps not, but there is a peculiar fascination with it, uncovering the secrets of the human body and its workings, mending broken bodies and returning men to useful lives where possible. I've wondered sometimes, had I not entered into the Service, if I would have made my way into medicine."

"When you phrase it like that, sir, I could see it. You have an attention to detail and a care for people that would be of value in such a profession."

"Well, be that as it may, neither of us ventured into those waters. When I've finished with these papers, I would like the carriage brought round to take me up to the Governor's mansion. I believe an hour from now would suffice."

"Yes, sir. If I may be so bold as to enquire, would you be requesting provision for Jack Sparrow?"

"As I mentioned last night, yes, I will be making a recommendation to the Governor for a Letter of Marque for Sparrow and his ship in addition to a conditional pardon. I don't know if Sparrow would accept it or not; he's a man who values his freedom but he has forged ties to Port Royal which are of import to him. It's not as if we would be asking him to give up his pirate ways altogether, merely to restrain himself from attacking British settlements and shipping."

"Seems he's well on his way to that end, seeing as how he's avoided British targets since he escaped that day on the ramparts."

"Indeed, he has exercised admirable restraint, confining his activities to the shipping of other nations with whom the Crown is less than friendly."

"He's certainly led us merry chases when he's about; there's no predicting what he will do next and he makes for a challenging naval exercise, sir. Gillette especially appreciates a good Sparrow pursuit, as do many of the men."

At this innocuous statement, Norrington looked up at Groves and, with a perfectly straight face, enquired if Mr. Groves wished to see one of his best friends drop dead of apoplexy.

"Not at all, sir, merely that those two do seem to liven things up around here. In fact, I believe Lieutenant Gillette to have some fondness for the pirate."

"In the event of a Letter of Marque and clemency, we will have to search out other devices to keep the sailors and Mr. Gillette entertained, will we not? Meantime, at least try not to torment poor Gillette any more than necessary; he is, after all, supposed to be your closest friend."

"Yes, sir. Will there be anything else you wish of me before I head down to the docks?"

"No, Lieutenant, merely see to the carriage and take yourself off to oversee the preparations. Dismissed."

"Yes, sir." With that, Groves made his departure, retrieving the papers he had brought in for the Commodore to peruse and release.

For nearly an hour, Norrington worked on his task and completed the documents that needed to be sent out, calling for his secretary to fetch in the wax and candle so that he could seal the pages. When all were done to the man's satisfaction, the Commodore rose to make his departure, first making a comment regarding his secretary's zealous nature.

"You are an unmitigated tyrant, Wincott. You are more demanding even than the Navy and its masters in London."

"Of course, sir. If we did not ensure that all was done correctly, and in quadruplicate, the entire system would grind to a halt and then where would the nation be?"

Wincott's dust-dry delivery concealed a crafty sense of humour and Norrington appreciated that his secretary approved of his superior enough to exercise it with him. He had seen Wincott cut down to size, with nothing more than a pointed glance and a quiet word, obstreperous young officers, demanding tradesmen and others who failed to approach the Commodore with proper respect.

"One does wonder. At the very least, we can ensure employment for all those who make the paper and ink, not to mention the file clerks and yes, even secretaries. Before I leave, are there any other matters which require my attention until such time as I return from the Governor's mansion?"

"No, sir, all is done for the nonce."

"Then I had best make my escape whilst I am able and before you find other means with which to torture me."

"Of course, sir, the next set of papers will be ready by the time you return."

With that ominous statement, Wincott gathered up the finished documents and returned to his own domain to complete them. Norrington knew there would be no mercy shown to him as Wincott was a hard taskmaster, even more so than some of his early teachers, either on land or at sea. For the moment, he would make his break for freedom and pay his visit to Swann.

As the carriage made its way up the drive to the Governor's mansion, Norrington thought over his proposal for Swann. He had a suspicion that Weatherby Swann had developed some tolerance, possibly even a kindness of sorts, for Sparrow. It was quite evident that he had softened in his wish to see Sparrow hanged for his crimes, beginning with the nonsense he had used to encourage Norrington to let the pirate effect his escape.

Since then, the Commodore believed, Elizabeth had promoted Sparrow's cause with her father, employing who knew what ploys in her campaign to save her pirate. He himself had come in for some subtle, and not so subtle, manipulation from his former betrothed, although her current fiancé was considerably more circumspect in his efforts. Turner had quite enough on his plate learning the ropes of his new position in their social strata. Had they married without the shadow of Will Turner, Elizabeth would have led him quite the dance; life with her would never have been dull or boring but it was not to be.

Norrington had to smile at his young friends' quandary and their blatant relief when Jack had popped into the smithy the previous evening to meet with an unexpected reaction from the Pirate Hunter. He would not jeopardize the friendship solidifying between the three of them and would even admit privately to enjoying his meetings with Jack Sparrow; the man had an edgy intelligence that Norrington encountered all too seldom.

His thoughts occupied him as he was led through to the morning room and announced to a Governor dressed in a resplendent green silk robe heavily embroidered with fanciful creatures, reading the early post and enjoying his cook's most excellent offerings. Swann waved to him jovially, welcoming him into the room and gesturing to take a seat at the table beside him.

"Well, Norrington, you came in time to partake of a fine breakfast."

"Thank you, sir, however I have already eaten."

"Then help yourself to coffee or whatever takes your fancy while I continue with mine and then you can tell me what brings you up to see me so early on a fine morning."

"Yes, sir."

Norrington poured himself a cup of the fine tea from the service on the table and made himself comfortable in the chair Swann indicated next to his own place at the head of the table. He was well aware the news he brought would not be welcome but that was the way of it. Swann waited until the naval commander had settled before commenting that it was likely preferable to just come right out with whatever it was that was troubling him.

"Is it that obvious, sir, that the news is not good?"

"No, most people would only see what you wish them to see; it's merely that we have known one another for nigh unto a decade under occasionally surprising conditions."

Weatherby's kind expression emphasized his affection for the younger man who had so nearly become his son-in-law and his words demonstrated shrewdness generally obscured. James smiled slightly, shaking his head in amusement; he genuinely held the other man in affection and enjoyed their visits.

"You are quite accurate in your estimation, sir. The news is not good at all. We have had at least two settlements attacked by raiders, people have been killed and a good few abducted for what purpose we do not yet know. There are several vessels operating in concert, at least one of which is of a substantial size and armament. Even more disturbing is that we have had no indication of the identity of these new threats, whether they be pirates or from some nation with which we are at swords' points."

The Governor sat back in his armchair and chewed thoughtfully at a mouthful of devilled kidney, giving himself time to consider this first part of Norrington's report. Swallowing the delicacy at last, washing it down with a sip of coffee, Swann requested that the Commodore elaborate on the details of the attacks and their locations and what he proposed to deal with the situation. He knew full well that Norrington, as the military commander, would have set his plans into motion before paying him this morning visit and was essentially simply paying him a courtesy.

"I know that you have things well in hand, Norrington; it is, after all, your field of endeavour to hunt down and rout out these pestilential pirates or whatever they prove to be. Please elaborate on the details as much as you believe I need to know and then tell me whatever it is you wish me to do for my part."

"Thank you, sir. Captain Stanhope of the _Samson_ made port yesterday evening and his report was such that we have begun preparations to go after the perpetrators of the atrocities at the earliest time. I shall be leaving Major Cuthbertson of the Marines in charge of military operations at Fort Charles as I will have my flag aboard _Dauntless_. The _Lachesis_ will patrol these waters while we are out; she is due in and will be reassigned to that duty as soon as she is able."

Norrington continued with his recounting. "I have put word out that any information regarding these new raiders will be rewarded fittingly. We know where these ships were when _Samson_ encountered and engaged them which will give us a starting point. What their purposes or allegiance may be is unknown at present."

"What damage and casualties did the _Samson_ sustain, Commodore? I do not expect that she came off without harm if she engaged several vessels."

"There were injuries and some damage but Stanhope realized he was being herded into an ambush and managed to break away from them and return to Fort Charles to give us warning. I have brought copies of her casualty list, damages and Stanhope's report."

"I gather that your plans are well underway and you will be sailing in how long, do you think?"

"We were fortunate in that most of the vessels had returned from patrol and can be resupplied in short order. I expect to leave two days hence and am prepared to stay out for up to three months if need be, depending upon what we discover."

"Well, I can only wish you good hunting and a quick result without heavy losses."

"Thank you, sir, I appreciate that."

"You will come prior to sailing and acquaint me with the details of your plans, Commodore."

"Of course, Governor."

"So, is there anything else which you desire to raise with me before you head off about your duties?"

"As a matter of fact, there is, sir. The subject would be that of Jack Sparrow."

"Hm. Sparrow. Again. As if I don't hear enough about the man and his blasted ship from my own family. I assume Elizabeth has been campaigning."

Swann sighed, resigned that he would be hearing yet again the sterling qualities of a notorious pirate. He had realized that Norrington had not wished to hang Sparrow the previous year but was bound by law to execute the man. Sparrow's ridiculous escape and Elizabeth's so very public rejection of her fiancé in favour of young Will Turner had been very difficult for the naval officer but he had shown his sterling quality in spades that day. The Governor had abetted his daughter and helped ease Norrington's dilemma with a bit of diplomatic doublespeak so he supposed he had shown himself to be in Sparrow's camp to some small degree.

Norrington looked over at his friend and his eyes crinkled in amusement. The older man's resignation to hearing yet more about _Captain_ Jack Sparrow struck him as humorous even under such serious circumstances. Knowing Elizabeth Swann, James had a very good understanding of where a goodly portion of Weatherby's harassed look originated.

"Not exactly, sir. It may surprise you but I also have had some recent thoughts regarding Sparrow. It is my belief that he has been very careful to avoid incidents with British holdings and shipping since he regained the Black Pearl. He is certainly an able captain and has a fine ship which could be put to good use in some sort of adjunct fashion. He would never come right out and become a respectable merchantman but possibly he would consider the status of a privateer in the King's name. It's not so much that he is enamoured of the Crown, far from it, I suspect, but rather he has formed connections to people here."

Swann gazed at the bland visage whilst he considered the implications, taking the time to help himself to some stewed fruit. James had said "recent thoughts" which quite intrigued him for, so far as he knew, Norrington would have had no opportunity to come in contact with the pirate. Now the man was carefully suggesting that Sparrow be turned to be of use to the Crown instead of being hanged as the law desired and his corpse left to blow in the wind at Deadman's Cay.

"I can truthfully say that I did not expect to hear such news from the commander of the Jamaican squadron."

Norrington merely shrugged lightly, an apologetic expression on his face. He would wait for Swann's reaction to this carefully phrased proposal.

"It would appear that you wish to have Captain Sparrow relieved from his appointment with the hangman and be allowed to roam free as a proverbial bird, perhaps even holding a Letter of Marque?"

"A very good idea, Your Excellency."

"I suppose you would want something like a pardon, as well?"

"Also a very good idea, sir."

"Perhaps you might even have a draft of the wording for such documents in hand that my secretary would be able to copy out ready for my signature?"

"I so happen to have such a draft with me, sir. It's very rough, merely some suggestions to cover the situation."

"Do you know, Commodore, you might find yourself with a career in politics yet, perhaps if and when you choose to retire from the sea?"

Swann took a particular delight in gently needling the naval officer, knowing full well how much Norrington despised politicians and all of that ilk, present company excepted. He also wished to see how determined the Commodore was to have Sparrow pardoned since he was certain it would be some time before he heard the details of how such a new accord had come about.

Norrington winced slightly at Swann's comment but was willing to accept it to gain his end. He understood perfectly that Swann was playing with him and was finding the entire Sparrow situation amusing. Considering how zealously and ruthlessly he had gone after the pirate threat in British waters for almost a decade, Norrington was aware this sudden leniency towards a pirate of considerable notoriety could be viewed as out of character. He really did not wish to go into long explanations; the Governor would likely be less surprised than most but more likely to support his decision.

"Very well, Commodore, I will consider your suggestion. Be a good fellow and tell Farrell to send for my secretary. Leave your notes here and I will see to your papers later and have them taken round to your offices at the fort. That should be plenty of time before you will be setting out."

"Thank you, sir. I had hoped you would look favourably upon my request."

"Well, James, I must admit the thought had occurred to me from time to time. Sparrow was in fact hanged, albeit not permanently, and in light of his aid against Barbossa and those who ravaged the town, it is a more just result, even though the Crown does not recognize incomplete hangings as accomplishment. Hopefully, he will accept the offer and provide substantial proofs of his worthiness of such attention lest our masters in London take issue with our actions here."

"My own beliefs echo yours, sir. By the by, shall you be informing your daughter of this change of heart immediately?"

"Why ever for, James? Would you be suggesting that we allow her to continue her efforts for a while longer?"

"She does put considerable effort and ingenuity into her campaign. Seems a shame to deprive her of a favoured endeavour at so short a notice."

"You still haven't told me all about Sparrow; you mentioned some recent occurrences with regard to him. I would be most interested to hear the circumstances, James. I must also wonder if my daughter and her blacksmith are involved in this change of heart."

"If you would forgive me, sir, perhaps that tale can wait until after we have dealt with the current situation."

"Very well; for now, I will wait but I will hold you to your promise, Commodore."

During this exchange, both men had held to their polite expressions but each man's eyes showed his enjoyment of the verbal sparring. On that note, Norrington rose to take his leave of the Governor. Swann stood and accompanied the Commodore to the foyer and bade him farewell until such time as the Navy was ready to depart to seek out and destroy these new threats to civilized folk. Norrington made his bow and left to return to his preparations.

TBC

12


	10. A Distant Rumble

A Kettle of Hawks

Disclaimer: Recognizable characters belong to the Mouse. Strictly for pleasure, no profit is being made or dreamt of. Mistakes are mine.

Rating: PG 13

Note: Time frame is essentially early 18th Century. Aside from the obvious, place names are fictitious. The naval details are mostly based from historic records or descriptions and are interpreted to suit the story. All going well, the story should remain true to its time and place, at least as much as the author's imagination is able to oblige. 

**Chapter Ten. A Distant Rumble**

In the mists of the early dawn, the Black Pearl rode quietly at her temporary anchorage, a sight her captain greeted with soul-deep love and his two companions with heart-felt relief. It was long past time to leave this cove and return to safer waters, away from Port Royal and the patrolling vessels of the British Navy. They rowed the little dory over to the tall black side of the Pearl and swarmed up the lines let down for them by the men on watch. Once aboard, Gibbs rousted out the crew to haul up and secure the dory, make sail and raise the anchor; the tide was on the ebb and he would use it to advantage. The wind was light but would freshen as the sun burned the mists away and the Pearl returned to open water.

Jack left his subordinates to their duties and headed for the great cabin. He wanted to go over his charts with the latest news in mind. He had no worries about the passage back to Tortuga as it was a simple enough matter, given the winds as they currently stood. These new raiders, pirates or whatever, surely they had some purpose for their attacks in British waters. Norrington's ruthless attitude towards the Brethren was well known and had reduced piracy in his territory to virtually nothing; it would be a feckless pirate who took on that relentless hunter… or perhaps one who had backing from other sources and a hidden agenda.

With that notion in mind, Sparrow opened his chart locker and rooted around until he had several with which to begin his own search. Spreading them out over the large mahogany table, he weighted the corners down with an eclectic mix of convenient items and began to pore over them, beginning with the one showing Jamaica and its coastline. Like many navigators, Jack habitually made notes of safe anchorages, hidey holes, reefs and the like, along with bearings, times and speeds. Humming softly to himself, Jack checked the bearings for Tortuga and then roamed over the islands and coastlines, considering what he would look for should he be willing to accept Norrington's offer.

For the time being, Jack could only speculate; he did not have enough information to make any kind of real assessment of the marauders he had begun to hear whispers of. Once the Pearl made landfall at Tortuga, he and the others would seek out the men and women who had the likeliest ears for news from around the islands, whether they acquired it by lawful or less than lawful means. This was, after all, Tortuga, not one of the more self-righteous colonial islands.

For a couple of hours, he amused himself by imagining himself in the place of the raiders, what he would do in their shoes if he was hell-bent on tweaking the tail of the British lion. The Caribbean was a good size but it became very small very fast when a navy made a concerted effort to seize and eliminate a particular target. Norrington would plan accordingly as he amassed information from his sources, rumours or anything else he could manage to acquire. Whatever else the Commodore might be, he was in fact an efficient strategist and tactician in the classic sense, quite possibly with a few unexpected tricks up those fancy sleeves.

His growling stomach brought him back to the present so Jack stood back from his chart-littered table and stretched out the kinks in his neck and shoulders. Taking up his hat, he left to trot down to the galley in search of sustenance. In one of their recent successes, he had managed to acquire a decent cook; compared to the previous two, this one was a paragon in that he managed to feed the crew without either poisoning them or inciting mutiny. So far no suspicious bits had been uncovered in his stews or concoctions and the man even came up with things that Cotton could eat with relative ease, given his lack of a tongue, aside from having to share the bounty with an inquisitive parrot.

Coming to the door of the cook's domain, Jack stuck his head in the door and called out to Salvatore, asking permission to enter. Cooks were often unchancy creatures to cross and Jack acknowledged that here his powers to command were somewhat limited. Upon hearing the bellow from within, he entered and politely began the negotiations for something to eat, seeing as how the man was performing some arcane ritual with peppers, onions, goat and a very sharp cleaver to the accompaniment of a boisterous song in Catalán

"Buenos días, el Señor Salvatore. ¿Cómo usted es este día brillante y hermoso? "

"Ah, muy bien, como usted puede ver para usted mismo, el Capitán. ¿Qué es usted desea hoy?"

Opening courtesies observed, Jack got down to the serious business of acquiring his breakfast. Salvatore appeared to be in a very good mood this morning so he calculated he had an opportunity for something tasty. Continuing in the flattering vein, he smiled most winsomely and requested that anything that the cook cared to prepare would be most welcome and greatly appreciated.

"I like a man who knows when to trust his cook to make something muy delicioso. It was not like that on some of my ships, their capitáns would insist on this and that and nothing I did would please them. Fools! As if they knew what was needed to make fine meals on a ship. Idiotas!"

"Aye, I quite agree. It takes a skilled man to work his miracles in such a small space, always bouncing around and away from land and the markets and all. But then, I'm a pirate, you understand, and know a fine treasure when I happen to come across it."

"A treasure, you say, no?"

"A fine treasure, I say, si. The Black Pearl deserves no less than the best and I do my best to see that she gets the best."

After this exchange, Salvatore beamed most approvingly at his current captain. The Black Pearl and Jack Sparrow were famed throughout the Caribbean and beyond and he considered them worthy of his attentions, much more so than the previous vessel he had been aboard. It was a fine morning and he was in an equally good mood so he decided to prepare a dish of eggs with the aromatic vegetables and chilis he had just finished chopping. The hens were laying well at the moment and he had plenty with which to work. There was rice cooking for the day's meal and fruit besides. It would be a very good breakfast indeed.

Sparrow was a captain who understood the benefits of fresh foods and made the effort to keep his crew supplied with produce. He had seen the effects of poor diet on sailors and knew that feeding them well would also keep them happier, less inclined to mutiny, as well as more fit to handle the Pearl. After the Isla de Muerta, he was certainly neither unable nor unwilling to make the expenditures to give his girl the best as she deserved. The acquisition of Salvatore was simply sensible management on his part and if he himself was able to enjoy finer meals, then so much the better.

"Capitán Sparrow, I will make you a most excellent breakfast and will bring it up to you in your cabin. There is no need to wait here."

"Thank you, Senor Salvatore. I am quite certain it will be everything you say and shall await it with great anticipation."

With that, Jack nodded politely to the cook and made his exit from the galley, leaving Salvatore in his kingdom. He headed back to the main deck and strolled along, inspecting his ship. Her sails were set well and she was making good speed in a fair breeze; at this rate, it would be a quick passage to Tortuga. He had a feeling that this interlude should be enjoyed as the gift it was for he had no doubts at all that soon there would be far less pleasant things to deal with.

He came to the port side near the bow and peered over the side at the great flukes of the anchor lashed to the cathead and then turned to look back along the side, checking to see all was secure. Satisfied, Jack looked at the rigging and up into the sails; there was little he could take exception to, Gibbs was an excellent sailing master and knew his trade. The Pearl was a beautiful vessel now that the damage wrought by Barbossa and the Aztec curse had been made good. He had wondered how she fared in the years they had been separated; the stories he had heard in the taverns and cess pits of the Caribbean had not been favourable, just one more strike against the traitors who had stolen her.

Jack leaned on the rail and simply basked in the feel of the sun for a moment and then made his way back to the entrance to the great cabin. It would not take Salvatore long to prepare his breakfast and Jack was not about to upset his cook by not being there waiting to do the food the justice it deserved. He waved up to Gibbs on the quarterdeck and then entered.

Quickly Jack cleared the massive table and set out some silver cutlery (Spanish) and a heavy silver tankard (Dutch) to go with the ornate salt cellar (French) that he had acquired somewhere or other. He added a fine linen napkin (Irish) trimmed with lace (Flemish) and a superb stemmed glass, ornate and gilded (Venetian) to complete the masterpiece. The fact that he had purchased none of it merely added to his satisfaction. Stepping back, he admired his handiwork, proclaiming aloud that it was fit for the Governor himself. Amazingly enough, Jack had even encountered a Governor or two in his travels.

Upon the tail of his self-admiration, Salvatore knocked on the heavy door and entered at Jack's call. Nodding in approval at the attempt to set the table appropriately for his culinary masterpiece, the cook and his helper set out the covered serving trays and the Catalán gestured grandly for the captain to sit down. His fine meal was hot and he was not about to have his efforts fail to get the respect they deserved.

Jack seated himself and allowed his cook to present each item in turn, serving from each as he went. Salvatore then stood back and waited until his captain had obediently sampled from all the delights he had prepared for his delectation. The cook was not disappointed as Jack effusively praised and lauded every dish, for once not having to obfuscate in the slightest. Satisfied with the reception his talents had received, Salvatore then bade his captain enjoy his meal and departed for his galley, lackey in tow.

Left in peace to enjoy his breakfast, Jack truly did enjoy the quality of the food. He had often gone without or made do with things a dog would turn its nose up at so having his own cook was an experience to be savoured, at least when it was one the calibre of Salvatore. It had been a good haul from that vessel, just to have acquired such a cook for his Pearl. The rest of the loot had been a nice addition to the crew's personal wealth, regardless how satisfied their bellies would be for a time.

By the time Jack had completed his leisurely repast, Gibbs was knocking at the door in his turn. He entered and cast a knowing eye over Jack's well-cleaned dishes and laughed at his captain.

"You keep eating like that, Jack, and you'll get fat. Won't be able to fit into them fancy clothes you like to pick up."

"Won't get fat. I've never been fat." This statement was accompanied by an offended glare at the speaker, no sylph himself.

"Keep that up and you'll find out soon enough. You might even have to borrow some of my clothes, if you don't watch out."

"Won't."

"Will so."

"Will not!"

"It's summat what happens as you get older, Jack, and you're not a youngster any more, now are you?"

"I'm as young as I feel and I'm still younger than you are!"

"Mark my words, Jack."

"Consider 'em marked, you nagging old woman."

"Now you're starting to sound like a lofty young Lieutenant I used to know."

"An' who would that be, that you 'used to know'?"

"A fella name o' Norrington. You might be remembering that one, eh?"

"Sounds like something _he_ would say," Jack grumbled under his breath.

Upon this exchange of insults, Jack decided it was past time to change the subject. He was not winning this round, anyway. He really did not want to get fat but he did so enjoy the luxury of being able to have such fine food for once in his life. There was absolutely no way he was going to put himself into a situation of having to borrow some of Gibbs' clothes; the man was a good enough sort but had this fascination with pigs. God only knew where those clothes had been.

"With the wind freshening like it is, won't take all that long to make landfall at Tortuga, Jack. What are your plans when we get there?"

"The crew can have some leave but only as long as they stay in the town. We might have to be leavin' in something of a hurry so I don't want them straying all over or getting themselves lost the Devil knows where."

"You plannin' summat, Jack? You've got that look about you again."

'Right now, it's not what I'm planning so much as what others are doing."

"Eh?"

"Heard about some new raiders before we left Port Royal. They're becoming very busy stirring up things hereabouts. Getting the Navy all a twitter and upset."

"It must be pretty recent, Jack. I've not heard a thing so far."

"Neither had I."

"Where did you hear it, anyhow? How good a source is it?"

"A little bird told me the night I went to the forge to visit Will and Elizabeth. Was just there to see how they're both doing and to drop off their presents. The source was one I can trust but I wasn't able to get any details then. After I caught you up at the Goat before we left town, I put the word out to an old acquaintance there that I'd be interested in reliable information about whatever is going on."

"Aye, I remember; he was certainly there holdin' court like he always does, the conniving old bastard. Surprised someone hasn't stuck a knife 'twixt his ribs before now. Still an' all, if there's aught goin' on, he hears most of it before the rest of us. Did he have anything for you?"

"Not so much as a whisper. Makes one wonder, don't it?"

"I'll be taking it that we'll be putting the word out for news when we get in to Tortuga?"

"Aye, that we will. I don't like what I'm feeling on the wind right now, Josh; there's something out there that's going to bring down a lot of grief, including to honest pirates like our own good selves."

On that note, they looked at each other and nodded solemnly. Tortuga it was then.

Three days later, the Black Pearl made the harbour at Tortuga. The winds had been favourable and the passage had been achieved with little problem. Jack looked out over the town sweltering under the noon sun, the stench from the dock side reaching out to where the Pearl was anchored whenever the limpid breeze managed to make it out that far. For once, Jack had something on his mind other than the taverns, the rum and the doxies, at least in the immediate future.

He set the watches for the crew and sent Gibbs in with the first lot going ashore to see about getting their supplies. They would load the Pearl once the food, munitions and other items were rounded up and hauled down to dockside. The crew that had drawn the short straws stayed to prepare the ship for lading and then they would have their shot at shore leave, in whatever fashion they cared to spend it. Anamaria remained on board to supervise and Jack knew she would see to it that things were done without slacking, Marty staying to second her. The pair might not be the biggest sailors on board but their attitudes more than compensated for stature and together they could easily cow the rest of the crew.

In the great cabin, Jack went to a heavy chest strapped with wide bands of iron that was draped with an oriental rug beside his bed. Information cost money and this was one occasion where he knew he would have to cross a few palms with gold to get the answers he wanted in as short a time as possible. Fortunately he knew which palms would give the best value for his money so it would not be wasted. Besides, only a few knew for certain how much booty the cavern on the Isla de Muerta had held and Jack had no intention that any others would ever acquire that knowledge. He had bled and sweated and plotted for it and it was his by right.

Carefully he sorted a number of gold and silver coins, rings and small items into his pockets, ready to be drawn out by feel in the appropriate amounts for each greasy palm. He walked over to the stern lights and opened a couple to let the breeze in, relieving the heat beginning to build now they were at anchor. He leaned against the frame and stared out at Tortuga, baking under the sun, relatively quiet until the evening's entertainments began later on. Idly he let his mind roam for a little while, taking a sip of rum now and again to refresh his thought processes. It was quite true Jack Sparrow loved his rum, or anyone else's rum, for that matter, but he did not drink anywhere near what he allowed the world to assume. Snorting at that thought, he sneered at the idea that he could command a ship such as the Black Pearl and be the rum-soaked excuse for a sailor people made him out to be.

"Enough of this. It's past time to get a move on, Jack."

With that observation to himself, Jack did get a move on and headed out to the deck to clamber down into the long boat about to head to the docks. He had schemes to set in motion and then, perhaps, he would indulge himself with a visit to one of the ladies he knew in town. He was in better odour than usual with certain of them, judging by the recent successes he had had. At any rate, it had been a couple of months since any of them had tried to slap the teeth out of his head.

Once docked, Jack sauntered up into the town, looking for several of his contacts in their habitual haunts. It did not take long to locate the first in the upper rooms of the Faithful Bride. Pausing long enough to listen at the door to confirm his information that One-Thumb Angus was within, he kicked the door open, nearly startling the man into falling onto the dirty floor. Angus was saved only due to the quick reflexes of the woman in bed with him, the rumpled bedclothes allowing at least one of them to retain some modicum of modesty.

"Wha' the de'il do ye mean, bargin' in on a man at a time like this, you cursed idjit?"

Angus wasted no time in letting his displeasure be known. He took a deep breath preparatory to continuing the spate of ire when he was interrupted by a stream of gold coins clinking smoothly from one dark hand to another. His attention was caught by the lovely sight and sound and his expression changed remarkably fast to one of obsequious interest, the long twitching whiskery nose giving Angus more than a passing resemblance to Rattus rattus.

"I have a small matter of business to discuss with you, Angus. As you can clearly see, I happen to have something here that might be of interest to a business man, such as yourself."

Jack rested a booted foot up on the edge of the bed while he continued to play with the coins, making sure that Angus' eyes followed them greedily. He caught the doxie's gaze and nodded slightly toward the door, indicating that her presence was no longer required. He was not above inspecting the goods revealed as she gathered up her clothes and made a hasty exit, tossing her a coin for her alacrity as well as a wink of appreciation. She caught the item neatly and grinned saucily at him on her way out the door, displaying a prominent gap between her lower teeth.

"Wha' would ye be wantin' frae me, Sparrow? Otherwise, how else would I be knowin' the price to set for it?"

"Well, now, Angus, me darlin', I might be wanting to know what you've been hearing lately."

"I hear lots o' things, as ye ken full weil, Sparrow. What do ye hae in mind?"

"A little bird told me in Port Royal that there are raiders attacking English settlements of late. I want to know everything there is to know about them, Angus."

"Raiders, ye say?"

"Aye, raiders I do say." Jack began to play with the gold coins and casually made them start to disappear in mid-air, causing Angus to watch in increasing anguish as his chance for bounty seemed to be vanishing before his eyes. Jack watched the scrawny man surreptitiously as he juggled the coins, gauging the effectiveness of his play by the sweat beginning to run down Angus's face. He did not believe it would take too long until Angus would take the bait and tell him everything he had heard; the only question was if the fellow had any news at all that Jack wanted to hear.

Twitching in increasing distress, Angus moaned slightly and looked up at Sparrow. His narrow shoulders sagged in sorrow at the thought of the gold he would be losing but he knew the pirate captain would not be pleased if he were lied to. Sighing gustily, Angus made to reply to Jack's question.

"I've nae heard e'en a whisper, Jack. If there be raiders out there, they be verra new in these waters."

"That's not what I wanted to hear, Angus me lad, but I can see you are an honest man and would not tell me wrong, now would you?"

"Ne'er, Jack."

"You'll be sure to get word to me as soon as you hear anything."

Jack frowned down at the little man while his thoughts raced along various paths. Angus tried to make himself look as innocuous as possible, fearing possible retribution for failure. A small squeak of distress escaped him and Jack came back from his musings to realize that he had frightened the man. Smiling in a friendly fashion, Jack tossed Angus a gold coin for his trouble, promising more if worthwhile information was forthcoming. In a rapid motion, Jack whirled about and left the rancid-smelling chamber, clattering down the stairs and back out to the street, leaving a much relieved snitch behind.

Jack spent the next few hours searching out an assortment of newsmongers in the town. He applied a careful mix of coercion and bribery, flattery and force, to get his point across. If there was any kind of whisper about the attacks on the English settlements, it should make its way to his ear sooner rather than later. Satisfied for the moment, Captain Jack Sparrow made his leisurely way through the town and back to the Black Pearl, knowing he had set things in motion for now. Any action he chose to take in the future would have to be well thought out in advance; the Pearl was a fine ship but she was not invincible nor were he and the crew Navy.

11


	11. Thunderheads

A Kettle of Hawks

Disclaimer: Recognizable characters belong to the Mouse, the others are mine. Strictly for pleasure, no profit is being made or dreamt of. Mistakes are mine.

Rating: PG 13

Note: Time frame is essentially early 18th Century. Aside from the obvious, place names are fictitious. The naval details are mostly based from historic records or descriptions and are interpreted to suit the story. All going well, the story should remain true to its time and place, at least as much as the author's imagination is able to oblige.

**Chapter Eleven. Thunderheads.**

The morning of their departure came all too quickly for the Commodore. He was still tired this morning but did not have the luxury to indulge in wishful longing to remain abed. Once the last dispatches were dealt with, he would have to go along to the Governor's mansion to finalize matters with Weatherby Swann. At least the Governor had an excellent cook and Swan was habitually the good host and was quite fond of his once almost son-in-law on a personal level; the older man's sly, pointed humour was an added bonus.

Norrington dealt with his early paperwork with quick efficiency and then washed and shaved carefully. The sharp edge of the straight razor demanded he take care as it would not do to meet the Governor and any others with self-inflicted wounds on his face. He rinsed his skin, drying it on the linen towel before cleaning the razor and the badger hair brush. He then scrubbed his teeth and rinsed carefully; he had no wish to meet the surgeon or a barber to have teeth pulled if at all avoidable. The recollection of a pirate's metallic grin came into his head and quite unwillingly the Commodore smiled ruefully at the memory. Even when the annoyance was not present physically, Sparrow still managed to insinuate himself into Norrington's thoughts.

Setting his grooming implements aside neatly, he moved over to the dressing stand where his uniform had been laid out for him. Working quickly, he took a freshly laundered cravat and wrapped it tidily around his neck, wishing not for the first time that he could have the comfort of his less formal attire. However, the uniform was required and as the military commander of the area, he did not have the luxury of comfort and was resigned to the weight and heat of wool and wig.

As he finished dressing, his servant returned to his chamber bringing his freshly brushed dark blue jacket and held it for him to don. Fortunately this was not a state occasion requiring his full dress uniform so he would be spared all the frippery today. Thankful for the small blessing, Norrington picked up his correspondence in the worn leather pouch and took the cocked hat held out for him. He would not bother to put the hat on until he was ready to leave the house, the mirror in the cross hall a convenient place to check his appearance. For all the discomfort, James did take some satisfaction in knowing he looked very well indeed in his uniform, standing out among the denizens of Port Royal. How many of them would be able to recognize the man rather than the uniform was a matter for speculation.

When he left the house, the carriage was waiting to take him up to the Vice-regal mansion, saving him from arriving sweaty from the walk. The ride did not take terribly long and soon he was stepping down from the carriage to be greeted by Swann's current butler, the previous one having been slain in the hall by the pirates who had kidnapped Elizabeth that memorable night.

"Good morning, Farrell. I have an appointment to see His Excellency."

"Good morning, Commodore Norrington, His Excellency is expecting you and will be joining you shortly. He has asked that you be shown to the morning room, given the hour of the day and the current weather."

"Thank you, that is quite acceptable."

With that, the butler escorted his charge to the comfortable room on the cool side of the mansion. The heat of the day would soon enough build and make the room quite hot but for now it was pleasant and airy, the light blues and greens adding to the impression. Norrington appreciated the gesture on Swann's part as he was shown into what was a family room, not the more formal salons or reception rooms. The tall windows on two sides were opened wide to permit the morning breezes to pass through unimpeded, the light silk draperies pulled aside and rippling softly in the air currents.

"If you would care to be seated, sir, I will see that refreshments are brought directly."

With a nod and a polite smile, Norrington went over to the windows overlooking the harbour both to enjoy the view and to check on the vessels at anchor beyond the docks. He kept an ear on the goings on in the house but the majority of his musings were on the approaching departure of his ships and the campaign he had to mount. That there would be casualties was a given but failure was not an option he would even begin to contemplate.

He spared a momentary thought to the revelations of a couple of days past and the return of Jack Sparrow into his ordered life. He had enjoyed the earlier portion of that evening, fencing with Will and jesting with Elizabeth in the relaxed atmosphere of the forge. The visit by a certain pirate had actually proven quite entertaining but for all the man's oddities and notoriety, there was a possible benefit to the Crown to permit his continued existence. He wondered if Sparrow had twigged yet to his presence in the Old Goat; the Commodore would love to be a fly on the wall when the ball dropped and Sparrow realized whom he had interrupted.

"Commodore Norrington, how good to see you this morning!"

"Thank you, Governor Swann. I have come to apprise you of the plans we have finalized to deal with this situation."

"Ah, the townsfolk at least will have some comfort in seeing the Navy set out in pursuit to deliver retribution."

Weatherby Swann's full wig, extravagant clothes and slightly vacuous expression were countered by the shrewd eyes and kindly expression; Swann's somewhat waspish sense of humour had been passed along to his headstrong offspring and was one of the things Norrington most enjoyed in their friendship. The two men were rather isolated from easy discourse with many of the people around them due to their respective ranks and perforce had to associate closely, not a hardship for either man.

"Yes, sir. I've brought copies of my plans, both for the forces I'm leaving to protect the town and those I'm taking with me. I have also arranged for the patrols at sea to stand in closer to Port Royal and Jamaica whilst I am away. Very likely I will send one of the vessels back sooner than the rest, depending upon what we encounter. The fort shall be in the charge of Major Cuthbertson until our return."

"Very good, James. I've yet to hear very much about these new raiders, even after several days now to allow the rumours to percolate. That, by itself, says a fair bit considering how fond the gossipmongers are of new grist for their mills."

While they made their greetings, each man had found his customary seat at the circular table in the smaller, more intimate morning room, Swann at the head facing the patio windows leading to the garden and Norrington to his right, maintaining a view of the ocean. The breakfast foods were laid out on the serving table behind the Governor. Norrington laid the despatch case on the chair beside him, opening it to remove the documents he had mentioned and placing in easy reach of his friend.

The Governor broke open the seals on the pages and spread them out in front of his place setting, arranging them in a logical manner. He glanced quickly over the lot before rising to help himself to the items that took his fancy this morning, turning around to remind his guest to be sure to make himself free of whatever he wished, seeing as how it was likely to be some time before such foods were once again available to the Commodore.

"Thank you, sir, I would appreciate it. Your cook is much sought after by some of the townsfolk, should you ever choose to let her depart your service."

"Well, one must keep up one's establishment as best as one can; however, it will be a very long time before I would willingly let my cook leave. It took long enough to find her and I am well cognizant of what a treasure I have in her. Elizabeth is very fond of the woman and certainly spent enough time below stairs as a child, when she could escape her governess and tutor. I know you prefer a frugal meal to a heavy one and there should be enough selection here that you will be comfortable. I have found myself that the heat of this climate is not the most comfortable with the heavier fare we enjoyed in England. If you do not see what you wish here, then you merely have to let Farrell know."

"There is no need to trouble your staff, what is here is perfectly fine for my needs. Thank you for the offer."

Norrington elected to have some of the coffee he had developed a taste for since arriving in Jamaica, adding the sugar that was so readily available from the cane fields on the island. In England, the sweetener was a luxury but here one could indulge, often to the detriment of one's dentition. When each had made his selections, they returned to the table and for a time silence reigned as Swann perused the documents as he ate. Periodically he would offer a comment or a nod to himself as he took in certain details of the reports and the plans Norrington had proposed to deal with the attackers.

"These would appear to be your usual well-conceived plans, James. What yet troubles me is the lack of information we have about these people, who they are, where they come from, who their backers are and so forth. Are there other avenues of information that you might pursue?"

"Actually that is one of the matters I would like to talk to you about, sir. I have put out word through unofficial sources that accurate news would be profitable to the right party. I have also come to something of an accord with an acquaintance of yours and it is about whom I particularly wish to confer with you."

Weatherby Swann sat back from his meal and peered closely at the younger man, curious about the careful wording of the request as well as the very circumspect look accompanying it. He was beginning to wonder exactly which acquaintance Norrington would be referring to in such a circuitous manner, reminding him of his daughter when she was exercising her wiles to get something she believed he would not approve. He refrained from mentioning the likeness to James as he did not believe it would be well accepted. Thinking of his daughter brought something else to his suspicious mind and he mentioned it before he could stop himself.

"You know, James, for some odd reason, I just had a picture of Elizabeth and that pirate of hers come into my mind. You know the one I mean, that Sparrow fellow, the outrageous one who made such a nuisance of himself not so long ago."

Swann was quite intrigued by the sudden stillness beside him; Norrington had frozen in place with his cup at his lips and the most peculiarly guilty look in the striking green eyes. That was more than sufficient to tell Swann that he had managed to hit the nail on the head and that is was indeed concerning Captain Jack Sparrow that the Commodore had wanted to talk to him.

"Well, James, it would appear Elizabeth's pirate is up to his tricks again. Why do not you tell me all about it and then ask whatever it is that you want me to do?"

Norrington gave a quiet sigh, replaced his coffee can in its saucer, being sure to set the handle just so, and turned to look at his friend. He had no idea how he had given himself away but knew perfectly well that there was a good deal of shrewdness lurking behind the kindly face. Probably Weatherby had had to develop certain intuitive skills in dealing with his strong-willed daughter, not to mention the sharks that walked in court circles in London, giving him a bit of an unfair advantage over a mere naval officer.

"I cannot say I understand how you managed to make that inspired leap of intuition, although I could hazard a guess, but you are correct in your identification of the subject. Jack Sparrow is indeed the topic I wished to speak to you about."

"What has occurred to make you change your mind about pirates, James?"

"Nothing, actually, sir; I still believe most adamantly they are plagues upon the earth and need to be eradicated forthwith. Rather, I would say that I had altered in my estimation of one pirate in particular. Sparrow, I have to say, is a good man and has proven himself to be a man of some sort of honour in the time we have had dealings with him. He has the affection of your daughter and her fiancé, as well as the admiration of a number of my officers and men. More to the point, since he regained possession of the Black Pearl, he has been most careful to plunder vessels without interfering with either British ships or settlements. In fact, he seems to have largely confined his activities to those nations with which we are in conflict."

"Yes, I have been rung quite a few peals over the sterling qualities of Sparrow of late. I do not believe that would have been of any influence over you, however, so what else has happened? I confess, I am most curious, indeed, to hear what has changed the mind of the Great Pirate Hunter of Port Royal." Swann could not quite resist teasing the Commodore just a little.

For a moment, the Commodore stared pointedly at His Excellency, the Governor, before capitulating. He related the appearance of Sparrow on the evening at the forge where he had gone along to visit with the young blacksmith and his fiancée and to indulge in some fencing practice. Such visits had become more commonplace as the three younger people had reconciled their differences and began to form solid friendships; the surprise had been when Sparrow had shown up and made himself quite to home before inviting himself to join in the fencing.

Swann began to chuckle at the image of what must have transpired and wished he had been there to observe it all. The resigned look on Norrington's face even now was enough to make him struggle to hold back a laugh.

"Details, James, details. I want to hear all about you crossing blades with a pirate. I know Will to be a fine swordsman but how does Sparrow go on?"

"It was quite the evening, I can assure you, but I must admit I did enjoy myself, once we had settled on the Rules of Engagement, to Will's great relief. Jack Sparrow is an enigma, there are elements of the gentleman as well as the scoundrel; I have no idea where he originates from but I discover in myself a greater wish to find out. As for what sort of swordsman he is, he is a fine one and classically trained, once he settled down and let that side of him come to the forefront. He seems to play to the audience of the moment and its expectations of him. He is also highly adaptable and creative when it comes to getting out of situations and his sword play shows it. He acknowledged the loss of my men when we took back the Dauntless from the undead pirates, he had tried his best to avoid unnecessary deaths but it was not to be."

"In a sense, he must be one of the few with whom you can be yourself, James. Sparrow has a fine ship, knows the sea and the sword, has some form of honour, and is more or less of the same rank as you are yourself. Meeting like that on neutral ground and having to find a way to deal with each other would intrigue anyone, I should think. What were my daughter and Will doing during all this?"

"At the onset, they were terrified Sparrow and I might do our utmost to kill each other and were much relieved when we found other avenues. It was actually a very pleasant occasion and I quite enjoyed it all, at least until Murtogg and Mullroy came to fetch me back to the fort. I made certain to inquire of Sparrow if he had heard aught about new attacks on British settlements but he claimed to have no knowledge of it, having just returned to these waters. I was able to get some assurance from him to the effect that he would consider relaying information that could help protect his friends here. I left him there with Elizabeth and Will so he could finish his visit with them, as he had not ventured into the town to meet with any naval officers, off duty or otherwise."

"I returned to my office immediately and met with my officers to get the information and begin my campaign plans. Afterwards I ventured back down to the docks area for a time to put the word out to one of my informants that I would be interested in any information concerning these raids. Whilst I was talking to the man, Sparrow showed up again, wanting to have a chat of his own with the same person. I kept my head down and quietly left the premises after I had concluded my business there."

"Odd how the man appears underfoot when you are not actively seeking him for punishment, is it not? Do you mean to tell me that Sparrow saw you there so closely but failed to recognize you? How could that be, James?"

"I had changed into other clothes, wore a hat, kept quiet, put up a smokescreen from my pipe and turned my face away so as not to draw his attention. At any rate, he returned to the crew members he had with him and passed me by again as I was leaving to return to my quarters."

For a moment, Weatherby and James exchanged satisfied smirks before they returned to the serious business before them. For the remainder of his visit, Norrington answered final questions from the Governor regarding the details of his schemes and the provisions he had made for the fort in his absence. Concluding his visit, the Commodore sorted the papers into the ones he was leaving with Swann and stashed the rest back into his satchel. The men stood and as Norrington prepared to take his leave of the Governor, Swann asked one last question.

"Now that I am clear on your plans to deal with this situation, the only thing that remains, I believe, is what you wish of me concerning Jack Sparrow. From what you have said, not to mention what my daughter and young Turner have gone on about unceasingly, I would assume a Letter of Marque and possibly a pardon of some sort are the next step. After all, it is easier to rehabilitate a pirate if one does not have to hang the man on sight, is it not, James?"

"I do not know how much rehabilitation Sparrow would be able to cope with but yes, I would like to have those papers in hand. If he proves to be a man of his word and does come forward with assistance, in addition to what he did before, I should prefer to be prepared with the legal means to save his neck. One cannot allow him to flagrantly escape each time he comes into the town and given that he has friends here, his presence would be noted eventually. So long as he confines his activities to non-British targets, I am willing to concede this for him, even though there are some who would consider me to be growing soft to go so far."

"I concur, James, the man is at least amusing and this way, I may even gain some peace in my household on the subject of one Jack Sparrow. Very well, I will have the temporary papers drawn up and copies sent to you before you sail, in case they are needed whilst you are away. I will also keep a set of them here for the same reason. I will put one stipulation on the arrangement and that is that Sparrow will not be issued a full pardon or Letter until such time as he satisfies me by demonstrating continuing to discriminate between British and other ships and property. Any service on his part that proves of value to the Crown would also aid in acquiring my approval on this matter."

"In other words, Sparrow will have to prove himself to you and that his intentions are genuine, not merely a ruse for his purposes."

"That is exactly what I mean. He is an entertaining fellow, certainly, but the Crown cannot be seen as easily manipulated and deceived and if I am to defend my decision in London, then it would be good to have a substantial burden of proof in hand. For now, the pardon will be a temporary one with something more permanent when Sparrow has demonstrated his reformation."

"I comprehend completely and concur with the caution. Thank you, sir."

"Of course, my daughter and her young man would be quite pleased if this comes to pass. I am quite certain they desire Sparrow to attend their nuptials."

Swann and Norrington exchanged commiserating looks, knowing exactly what Elizabeth would feel and say on the matter of Jack Sparrow's continued existence. James knew that Weatherby had no intention of revealing his plans to her until he felt like it, thus allowing his daughter to continue her campaign to save her pirate. It might not have been the choice of entertainment James would have chosen, however, he understood the temptation and knew his older friend was subtle enough to play his daughter for some time to come.

The Commodore bowed politely to the Governor as he bade him farewell, quite satisfied with how the meeting had gone. Now he only had to do as well with the remainder of his preparations and then he would be back to sea where he belonged. Swann recognized the eagerness in the younger man to be on the chase again, the focused intensity growing in the clear green eyes reminding him of a hunting tiger he had seen once in India. He had always enjoyed studying people, attempting to see the motives and desires behind the many masks they presented to the world, and James was one of the more interesting men he had come to know. He had hopes that Sparrow might provide some diversions for him in the future. For now, he could only wish Norrington success and a safe return. On that note, the two friends parted company

xoxoxoxoxoxox

Port Royal and its bastion Fort Charles buzzed with anticipation as news of the attacks spread and people watched the Navy make preparations to sail out after the new pirate threat. Speculation ran rampant as people from the lowest stations to the highest passed along each fresh soupçon of news, real or imagined, to liven up the tedium of their everyday lives. It was not so much they wished ill upon any one, rather they were starved for something aside from the stale and familiar, just so long as the trouble did not come their way. They found the sight of the squadron in their harbour reassuring and relied on Norrington to live up to his reputation as a hunter and purveyor of punishment on their behalf.

The Commodore observed the townspeople and their savouring of the latest rounds of rumour with resignation. He understood the mix of horror and guilty pleasure as well as the lure of such for most of the folk. On the one hand, the terror of the destruction wreaked by Barbossa and the _Black Pearl_ still lay close in the minds of the people who had experienced it. On the other, Port Royal was a colonial outpost and far removed from easy access to the latest news from London and Europe. Gossip of all sorts was a mainstay of the society hereabouts and anything remotely fresh was pounced upon like terriers after a rat.

Norrington had not the slightest intention of fuelling any of the stories making the rounds, plausible or otherwise. He would issue a declaration of what facts he deemed sufficient for the people to know and make his departure before they could swarm around him. Major Cuthbertson was quite able to handle the fort and most situations whilst the Commodore was elsewhere and Governor Swann would do his part toward maintaining order and appearances. The _Lachesis_ was to keep a close patrol of these waters whilst the fleet was out at sea; if circumstances warranted it, he would dispatch one of the vessels to go back to assist her until their return to port.

Assuming all went well, he would find and eliminate the raiders and end their depredations in his territory. Coincidentally, such a victory would serve to warn off others who may have taken a notion to try their luck against the Scourge. Norrington knew what his reputation was and had no qualms about using it to further his ends; he did not care particularly for the sensationalism but he did appreciate not losing any more of his marines and sailors than necessary. He never forgot that not only were the men under his command flesh and blood, some with families and others without. They were also scarce commodities, given the lack of regular or sufficient replacements from England.

The night before their planned departure, Norrington went aboard the _Dauntless_ after making his final arrangements with the Governor, the local Watch and at the fort. He would sleep aboard so as not to waste the early tide and offshore breeze. The _Dauntless_ was anchored close to the mouth of the bay and would be able to make way more easily from there than if she had been docked close in to the shore.

As was his custom, Norrington inspected the ship to gauge both her preparedness and the state of the crew's spirit. Reports had their proper place and uses but he had always believed in seeing for himself, rather than relying on the words of others. He passed along each deck, pausing here and there to say a quiet word to a number of the crewmen. Norrington was blessed with an excellent memory for faces and names and he had observed in the past how a man could be reassured simply by being acknowledged. It was a straightforward matter requiring only such small courtesies but one that aided his command of ship and crew.

Norrington believed in proper discipline but could see no benefit in a ship run by fear of the lash; men worked better when treated responsibly and he made every effort to prevent situations arising whereby the Service would require him to have a man flogged. When there was no other recourse, he had at times had to obey the strictures of the Navy and counted it more a failure on his part not to have prevented the situation from arising.

In turn, the Commodore was respected by his men, officers and crew alike. His dedication and ability made them proud of him and just as proud to serve under him. The successes he had accomplished against the pirates infesting the area had brought a substantial amount of prize money into the pockets of many, never a bad thing in the King's Navy. Norrington was no mere figurehead; he was an experienced and capable sailor who understood ships as well as any man among them. His insistence upon order and discipline extended to himself as well as the lowest seaman. It would have come as a surprise to the Commodore to be told just how much store his men placed upon him and the boasts they made in their pride of serving under him.

After completing his round of the ship, Norrington returned to the quarterdeck to gather his thoughts for a time and then made his way to his cabin after bidding goodnight to the officer on night watch. He divested himself of his uniform, choosing to dress in an old, comfortable pair of breeches to sleep in; once out at sea, he would sleep in his clothes as usual. Aboard _Dauntless_, he had the luxury of a cot rather than the more common hammock but it still swung on its tackle to the movement of the ship, a soothing motion he missed on land. Through the open stern windows, he could hear the wavelets slapping against the hull below and the creaks and noises of the ship surrounding him. To this familiar music, he fell asleep quickly and dreamlessly.

The morning broke all too soon and bid to be a day of changeable weather. Shortly after rising, Norrington had had a signal made to the other senior officers to come aboard _Dauntless_. The Commodore made his toilette and took his morning meal with his fellow officers in the great cabin per his custom. There was a tension that could be felt throughout, an eagerness to be off on the hunt. Norrington asked for reports from each man in turn, beginning with the captains. The ships were well supplied, even for such short notice, and the Commodore was well pleased with the state of the vessels and their crews.

During the search for the raiders, the men would be drilled for gunnery and possible situations that might arise if they came to a battle. Strategy and tactics could only go so far; sometimes it came down to fighting in close quarters and survival in such confusion became tantamount. Constant practice of gunnery and listening for commands paid off if a situation came to close quarters although Norrington preferred to use tactics to overcome the enemy. Boarding was costly in men's lives and did not carry assured an assured outcome.

As the patrol continued, he would communicate changes in strategy as they arose; for now, the officers had a sound idea of what they were about. He was careful to include more than just the commanders of the other vessels; in the event of casualties, he hoped to have enough of the command structure remaining to take over. Pragmatically, he included himself among the possible losses.

Last missives were sent ashore and the final communiqué from the Governor wishing them good hunting and success on their venture completed their obligations and, at the familiar bellow from the sailing master, _Dauntless_'_s_ crew scrambled up into the rigging to make sail as the anchor was raised and secured to the cat head. The other vessels had sailed earlier on; smaller and lighter, they were more able to use the breeze coming off the land. They would head out and take up position to give the widest area to sweep, remaining within sight of _Dauntless_, the hounds loosed by the hunter.

The grand ship ponderously made her way out past the headland into open water and caught the breeze, bellying out her sails and picking up speed. There was a heavy chop on the water this morning and a pronounced swell, sufficient to lift even the bulk of _Dauntless_'_s_ massive hull. Norrington stood on the quarterdeck and looked up as the higher sails were unfurled and began to fill in turn, enjoying the spread of bleached canvas as it snapped outward; she was a fine proud ship that he loved even though no longer her captain. Someday he hoped to be back in command of a fine ship and free of the restraints his rise in rank had place on him; ambition and true desire did not always march together as he would have preferred. For now, he would take what he could.

The _Dauntless_ was truly a magnificent vessel, tall and heavily gunned, built of stout English oak and in her prime, her might representing the rising command Britain had of the seas and, for now, she was his. Every ship had its own personality and sensibilities, some were decent, mannerly vessels, others were fortunate or stubborn, happy or unluckyand _Dauntless _was well suited for her role as the queen of the Jamaica squadron. She was as much the predator as the Commodore and neither of them cared to be anchored to the shore with its surly, sullen earth. Somnolent no longer, he could feel her rise and surge forward powerfully beneath his feet, impatient to return to the killing grounds that were her rightful domain.

TBC

13


	12. Squall Line Ahead

Disclaimer: Recognizable PotC characters belong to the Kingdom of the Mouse; the historical figures belong to history and the others are mine, mine, mine. Strictly for pleasure, no profit is being made or dreamt of. Mistakes are mine.

Rating: PG 13 for the odd bad word or scenario

Note: Now that PotC2 is out, this story is clearly canon up to that point and AU after that. No matter. It's my story and I can do what I want with it. g

**Chapter Twelve. Squall Line Ahead.**

Tortuga sweltered and steamed under the Caribbean sun, the odoriferous perfume Jack had once boasted about to Will Turner transformed into a stomach-wrenching miasma down along the docks and harbour front. Local sanitation not being one of the town's strong suits, that fact only added further nuances to the stench of fish guts and swine offal amidst the dregs of human habitation. Through long practice Jack did not attempt to draw in too deep a breath lest the reek turn even his inured senses and stomach. Mind you, Tortuga at night was a different story altogether when the local establishments did the majority of their trade, the darkness obscuring some of the less than bucolic scenery and its attendant nymphs and satyrs and worshipers of Dionysus.

Alcoholic and fleshly delights aside, the crew would have its time ashore to keep them content but the preparations would be done in quick time. Jack did not intend to linger in Tortuga for more than a few days but he would make certain they took on fresh food and water and enough stores of dried foods to last for some time. They would take advantage of other islands when they were able, or the occasional vessel that presented itself for plundering, but it was always wise to stay on top of the situation. He could not predict what they would encounter in this new venture but he was quite certain that the unexpected would be part of it.

He had found a source for good black powder not so long back and thus the _Black Pearl_ had her magazine full. They had been practicing with the new powder and he had made notes of the ranges achieved with weight of shot and varying quantities of powder, level shooting and on the up roll until he was satisfied with their performance and felt confident in his knowledge of his ship's capability. Of all things, the quality and consistency of the gun powder was the greatest variable of artillery and it paid to get the best to be found. Jack had learned decades past to eliminate as much of chance as he could when it came to his guns and was still alive and afloat as proof of his attention to this detail; at least, on those occasions where he had been able to control the shots.

For the next few days, Jack and his officers prowled the stews of Tortuga when they were not overseeing the work on the _Pearl_, keeping their ears and eyes open for anything that could be of use. He made certain to pay his respects to some of the higher echelon in the town, not all his acquaintance or connections were to be found in the dives situated haphazardly along the waterfront. There actually were finer residences and people of a fancier class to be found in the more pleasant areas away from the harbour, including the mansion of the governor of the colony.

Jack could not see any great difference in the quality of rogues to be found in either venue, aside from the trappings and pretty words. In some ways, the dishonest of the waterfront ale houses and brothels were the more honest of the lot and he knew where he stood with them without having to put on airs and graces. That being said, Jack was perfectly able and willing to make use of the upper echelon and its peculiarities. Gold had an obliging ability to appeal across the boundaries of class and station, a most useful trait as long as the buyer had deep pockets and the seller few scruples.

On their fourth day in port, Sparrow decided to pay a little visit to Léon Henri de Boucicault, a contact he had used to fence substantial amounts of goods in the past, to the mutual satisfaction of both parties. Léon Henri also had a particularly talented nose for ferreting out snippets of profitable information useful in many quarters around the islands and the Main itself and as Jack was in the market for information it was to Léon Henri's establishment that he toddled into.

The servant showed the pirate captain into the inner sanctum of the house; like many hereabouts, the exterior façade was barred and shuttered off from the narrow streets and boules. The inner courtyard was not overly large but pleasant and cool around the fountain, a trick borrowed from the Moors via the Spanish, and far enough from the harbour to be rid of the stenches, depending upon which way the winds blew. Jack parked himself on a shaded bench situated conveniently close to the fountain and propped his boots up on the edge, relaxing for a moment. A light noise signalled the arrival of a brass tray with refreshments placed quietly on the table beside him. Jack helped himself to some of the fruits preserved in syrup before pouring out a glass of the red wine and juice mixture that was so tasty in the heat. It may not have been his preferred rum but Jack was perfectly content with the alternative. He sipped his drink whilst he waited for his host to make his appearance, his thoughts rambling idly for the moment.

A half hour had passed before Léon Henri wandered in to join his guest. Jack cocked an eyebrow at the sight of the diminutive and rotund man dressed in a florid silk robe with embroidered Moroccan leather slippers peeking below. The little fellow had an unfortunate taste for the exotic and sadly lacked sufficient stature to carry off his peacock tendencies. The eye-searing brilliant blues, reds and yellows vibrated merrily away as the hot sun reflected blindingly off the bald pate and thick lensed spectacles until Jack was actually relieved when his friend entered the shadowed part of the patio to join him. He poured another glass of sangria and waved a hand, generously indicating for his host to partake.

Léon Henri plopped down onto the pile of lushly embroidered and tasselled cushions at the other end of the bench and wriggled until he had excavated a comfortable nest for his ample rear before he reached out to take up his glass with stubby, heavily ringed fingers. Jack watched the performance and grinned brightly at it as he usually did before thoughtfully shoving over the footstool so the slippered feet did not have to dangle uncomfortably above the tiled floor. For his part, Jack was content to remain at his end of the bench lest the generously applied perfumes drift overly close to his sensitive nostrils and set off a round of sneezing.

"Ah, merci, mon ami. It 'as been some time since you graced my 'umble door. I 'ad begun to think you 'ad forgotten poor Léon Henri in your travels."

"Never would I be doing that, Léon Henri. I have but to think of Tortuga and there you appear in my mind, indescribably resplendent or is that resplendently indescribable?"

"You flatter me with your visit, Capitaine Sparrow. I 'ad 'eard that the _Black Pearl_ was in 'arbour, making repairs and provisioning as if for a voyage to parts undisclosed. I would 'ave been so désolé 'ad you not 'ad time to come and visit my most modest abode."

"Well, we can't have that, now, eh? I would be so distressed to cause you so much upset when there's really no cause for worry. You know I always come to you when I want to hear all the latest gossip and goings-on. I still don't know how you manage to hear some of the things you do but will just have to chalk it up to your greater facility for such things."

The pair of scoundrels beamed at each other, the flattery not disguising Jack's real intent for this not wholly social visit. The little fellow sitting beside Jack relaxed deeper into his silken cushions, his beady eyes in the round face giving an impression of a fat frog or toad squatting in anticipation for an unsuspecting fly to pass by. Jack had to shake his head a bit to cancel the image, unfortunately exacerbated by the heavy round spectacles which made Léon Henri's eyes appear quite bulbous and damp.

In turn, Jack stretched out a bit further and took another swallow of his drink, appreciating the beneficial effects of the fruit juices on the rough red wine. Amenities taken care of, the pair began their negotiations for bartering present and future goods for current information and quality rumours. There was no hurry for their deliberations so the two oddly matched men spent the rest of the afternoon at the task, coming to an accord over a table laden with delectables in the early evening.

They shook on the deal and Jack stood and stretched mightily like a large lazy cat before bidding Léon Henri farewell for the nonce. His host was most pleased with the bargain reached and enveloped the pirate in an encompassing embrace, kissing Jack first on one cheek and then the other in the Continental manner and almost overwhelming him with the heavy chypre perfume wafting from the silks. He accompanied his guest to the hallway and bade him good sailing and good hunting. Jack grinned at the businessman, surreptitiously checking his garments before he exited, Léon Henri having had a profitable early career as a pickpocket. Whistling merrily to himself, Sparrow waited until he was out of sight of his host before taking out the bauble he had pickpocketed in turn from the Frenchman, tossing it lightly from hand to hand as he sauntered down the street to return to his beloved _Pearl_.

----

Jack was in a jovial mood, satisfied with the unfolding of events so far. He had not only bargained the fence into decent rates for the particular goods the crew would unload in the morning, subject to inspection, he had also managed to get some information regarding the latest raids that had the Royal Navy all atwitter. He figured that could be turned to his advantage but upon further rumination, he decided he did not like these new players on his stage. Very wasteful they were and up to no good, no, no good at all. Not at all what an honest pirate like himself wanted to have running about, disturbing the nice even flow of business.

He decided that he would check on how the work was going on his ship and then reward himself with a visit to the Faithful Bride. He worked his jaw in fond reminiscence of previous visits to the Bride, slaps and punches taking equal time in his memories. He passed his tongue along a gold tooth that was a souvenir of one such encounter and decided that perhaps a new tattoo would be a better choice on his part. If Old Sylvestre was yet above ground, then Jack had a patch of unmarked skin for him to work his needles on. With that thought, Jack picked up his pace; he had an entire night's pleasures to get started on and he was wasting precious time lollygagging in the street like this.

He returned to his ship, the mere sight of her tall masts and massive timbers bringing a gleam to his eyes as always. He had not lied to Elizabeth Swann on the occasion of their marooning on that forsaken islet about what a ship meant; he had not had the _Pearl_ back in his possession long enough for the fears to totally subside each time he left her sheltering hull. He walked along the dock and boarded her pausing to talk to Gibbs who was ticking off the supplies from his list as they were hauled up in the nets to be lowered into the aft hold.

"Well, Mr. Gibbs, how's the work proceeding?"

"Fine, Jack, 't won't be long 'fore we've got this lot stowed away as snug as you like. Once we're done securin' it, then it's just the for'ard hold to finish off, plus what's stashed on deck for the little Froggie, and we'll be ready to head over to the usual place to fill up the water barrels and wood for the galley."

"Good. Good. That's what I want to hear."

"Any idea where we'll be heading out for, now that we're about ready? You've not mentioned anything so far, aside from not lingering about Tortuga for long this trip. The crew's curious, ya know." The _Pearl_'s quartermaster was just as curious as the rest of the crew but he had the advantage of position with the captain to winkle out any news.

"What have they been saying, Gibbs?"

"Nothing very much just yet, they're still going about their shore leave when they ain't working aboard the _Pearl_. Haven't really had time for ought else. They are sailors, ya know."

"Will have to decide when I've a moment… where we're going, that is. For now, finish off the loading and take a spot of leave your own self."

Jack saw no reason his friend should miss having a reunion with his favourite porcines; they were not to his own preferences but chacûn à son goût, as the French liked to say. Actually the French seemed to say quite a lot, now that he considered the matter. He shrugged very Gallicly, there were other things he was more interested in than the French and their bons mots. Besides, he had a notion that Giselle might be available for a little recreational activity with _Captain _Jack Sparrow, especially as his pockets were more flush than they had been at other times in their acquaintance. He continued with his instructions to the burly officer.

"Just make sure there's a good watch left on board; now that the _Pearl_ is provisioned and there's cargo still to be picked up, there might be someone out there stupid enough to make a try for something and, as you know full well, there's no lack of the stupid."

Joshamee grinned at his captain, his fine side whiskers bristling out in matching good humour. "I'll be along in a while, then, Jack. The tide'll turn just afore the sun's at its peak so I'm assuming we'll be making our way out then."

"Right you are, Josh. My hands are startin' to itch and I see no reason not to scratch, eh?"

Jack clapped his quartermaster heartily on a shoulder before turning to swagger and mince his way back down to the dock and into town. Gibbs snickered at the thought that Jack's hands were not the only things needing a bit of a scratching. The older man watched his captain's progress for a few moments, just shaking his head in amused resignation at the apparent inability of the Sparrow to walk down the road like a normal man, before turning back to bellow in irritation at a careless labourer quayside.

----

The Faithful Bride was not difficult to find for it was a most popular tavern and the traffic led naturally to its doors. Had a visitor had any hesitation about locating it, he would only have had to follow the noise and altercations in the street outside the Bride's doors. The rules of the establishment were simple, drink heartily, fight and gamble, cheat and whore to one's heart's content or until one's pockets were empty. Murdering one's fellows was frowned upon, more for loss of potential revenue than moral issues, and serious fights were broken up, the offenders tossed out the nearest door or window.

Should they happen to land in the filth in the street or in with the neighbour's swine, no matter. The sow was known to be unusually tolerant of sudden visitors; it seemed she was partial to the occasional bucket of ale or the more redolent drinkers who joined her in the sty. Possibly Mercedes the Sow mistook them for odd-looking relatives but no one knew for certain, they merely accepted her benign welcome whenever they happened to land in the muck with her, fending off the inquisitive wet snout if they were sufficiently conscious.

It was to the Bride that Jack's steps took him. By this time, the denizens of the waterfront were wide awake and settling in for their night's work and entertainment; after all, why would any sensible person want to do aught than sleep through the heat of the day? As Jack approached the establishment, he noted that festivities were already in full swing which promised for a lively night. He smiled in happy anticipation, the flickering light of the torches and fires reflecting from his gold and silver teeth, as he preened his moustache prior to making his entry. Jack paused for a moment on the threshold to allow the watchers to take proper note of his arrival before stepping inside to the din.

He swayed and swaggered over to the bar for the large leathern mug the keep was filling in anticipation. Passage across the tavern floor was always an adventure and an exercise in vigilance, not to mention quick reflexes, but Jack had practiced the art long and diligently and avoided the obstacles along his path. Occasionally, successful crossings were achieved by blind luck, which he had no objection to so long as Luck smiled on him and not the other bloke. It did not take long until he was over by the corner table he favoured and it only took a second-best threatening glare to encourage the drinkers already seated there that other tables were really better choices for their health, after all.

He seated himself with a flair of coat tails, swinging his sword out of the way by his side, then tossed his beaded braids out of his way, arranging his limbs most artfully in accord with his image, and took a moment to primp his moustache and beard. He had spotted several of his crew amidst the carousers making merry this night and more than likely there might be more on the upper floor or around the darker nooks outside the inn's walls. The crew on shore leave did not tend to stray far from the waterfront; why should they when all they wished was so conveniently to hand?

The other side to the Faithful Bride was its function as a clearing house for news and rumour and Jack wanted every tidbit he could winnow out of the smoky atmosphere. Information was a valuable commodity and he was adept at acquiring it in the least likely places. Tonight's trawling should be rewarding, judging from the itching in his palm, always a good sign of things to come his way. Jack scanned the room as he tipped his mug for a long swallow, remembering to thank his ancestors for passing along their cast iron bellies even whilst enjoying the burn of the liquor as it worked its way down his gullet. He bobbed an eyebrow philosophically at the quality of the rum before him, knowing there were far better and worse sorts, even as he took another swallow. He should know, after all, he had had his share of both ends of the spectrum.

For a while, Jack sat peaceably and worked on his tankard. He had not yet seen Giselle about but there was more than enough activity about to keep him well entertained. He noticed a figure in the shadows along the upper passage off to his right and recognized a man he really would like to have a little chat with. Upon that thought, Jack stood up and swayed for a moment like a tree in a high wind and then wandered along and up the stairs, following along the hall as he watched his quarry sling an arm around one of the working women plying her trade in the Faithful Bride. The pair made their way to one of the doors at the end and lurched inside, preparatory to whatever services the bloke could afford, closing the stained and scratched door behind them.

Before they could get down to their business, Jack had affected an entrance and slipped inside unnoticed. He cleared his throat noisily to get their attention, to the indignation of both parties, and motioned to the woman to vacate the chamber with a sharp jerk of his head. She glared at him and folded her arms across her ample bosom, barely contained in the red and yellow bodice. Jack scowled and jerked his head towards the open doorway twice more, using an eyebrow to emphasize the command. She scowled even more furiously and continued to stand her ground, shaking her head in refusal.

Jack knew a losing cause when he saw one, on occasion, and huffed in disgust. There was only one solution to the dilemma that he knew of and it galled him to have to resort to using it. He knew he would not be able to budge her physically, she was not only as tall as he was but twice his girth; he could tell, being a man of experience, that it was not all soft flesh and skirts. The bare arms and shoulders that he could see would have made a prize fighter envious.

Accepting defeat less than gracefully, Jack fished around in the folds of his sash and drew out a silver coin. He held it up to her and made a silent offer, gesturing again toward the door. She grasped the coin and inspected it; finding it to her satisfaction, she grinned toothily, dark places showing a few pickets missing in the fence, and sallied forth with a coy come-hither glance at her benefactor. Jack shuddered and closed the door behind her, carefully bracing the chair under the latch to prevent further interruptions. He turned to look at the man sitting abandoned on the rumpled bed and ignored the stunned expression on the wrinkled face.

"Well, well, well. Just the very man I wanted to see. How have you been, Charlie my man? Keeping well, I trust?"

For a moment, the skinny bloke sat and gibbered, the loose wattle under his chin flapping about like a sail with a loose sheet. He had expected some time with Elsie and then to have Jack blasted Sparrow interfere was beyond his ken but his ire helped the blood return to his upper storeys. By the time he had recovered himself enough to voice his objections to the insult, the pirate captain had approached the bed and placed a booted foot up on the straw pallet beside him.

"Wot gives ya the roight to come in 'ere and send Elsie away loik that? I'm the one as paid fer her, all right an' proper. Ya want yer turn with 'er, ya waits yer turn. Ya hear that, Sparrow!"

"Don't worry so much, mate, Elsie won't go far and we'll soon be finished with our business and then you can go do whatever your little head wants tonight, depending on what coin you have to offer her."

Charlie sat up and crossed his arms sullenly over his chest, a pout on his wizened face giving him the appearance of a scrawny little gnome. He really hated Sparrow at times; the man could charm most of the women around Tortuga without much effort. He perked up a bit at recollecting how many of those same women were so willing to slap the pirate captain into seeing stars; Jack was not always able to evade their fast hands.

"Well, yer've got me attention now, Wot'cher want, anyways, Sparrow?" Charlie's petulant voice betraying his origins within the sound of Bow Bells in London town to all and sundry.

"Ah, the voice of reason surfaces. I have a simple business transaction to put to you, Charlie. You have a fine knack for hearing odd bits and pieces of news as they drift by you and I happen to be curious to know what you've been hearing lately. In fact, I might even be in the market for news, as it were." Jack accented his words with a gold coin that he manipulated back and forth across his knuckles, passing it close enough so Charlie went cross-eyed as he followed the coin avidly.

"In the market, ya say, Jack? Any thing in perticlar ya wants to know about? There's lots of things goin' on so ya needs to tell me more."

"Lots of goings on, indeed. I want to know all you know about whatever it is that has the Royal bloody Navy so up in arms right now."

"'eard about that already, did ya?"

"Hm-hmm. Keep going, Charlie." A second coin joined the first, and the little man's eyes took on an avaricious gleam. Jack watched the expressions cross the face and smiled in satisfaction at having well-hooked his fish.

"There's not been all that much to hear but there've bin a few whispers about."

Charlie paused and waited for Jack to make the next move in their negotiations. Jack waited in turn, not bothering to add any more coin to the offer until the other man anted up. He was not about to pay good money for nothing and knew the smell of gold would get results; he could out-wait Charlie any day when he felt like it. Charlie peered at Jack's impassive face and he gave a resigned sigh; he knew Sparrow had him beat and Elsie would be around to take advantage of whatever he gained from the Pearl's captain.

"There's bin some fishing villages attacked, the people killed or taken."

"Yes, Charlie, I already know that part. Keep goin'. I want to know who these raiders are, where they berth, where they do their business, and anything else you've heard about."

"They's 'eavily armed; the chief ship sends in the smaller ones to do the deeds. Wot I've 'eard is they be Frenchies or summat out of the north."

"Where in the north? And what are they about?"

"Up there 'round the mouth of the river and them marshy bits. Ya know, that place wot that brother of that ol' sea dog of their'n started."

"What ol' sea dog? You mean d'Iberville? That sea dog?"

"Yeah, that's the one. That Orleans place. An' down the Floridas, too."

"Who's leading them, Charlie? I need to know everything you do and don't waste my time or lie to me. You know I can always tell when you're lying so don't bother. Now, hurry up."

Jack's patience took an abrupt drop; he had a sudden feeling that time had just grown short and he wanted to get out to sea quickly. Charlie caught the shift in expression and shivered at the realization of the danger standing beside him. Sparrow usually presented a benign face around Tortuga but Charlie remembered some of the darker stories about the pirate and knew them for truth. He hurriedly told the captain every little detail and rumour he had heard and waited for his reaction. It came after a pause where Sparrow went absolutely still for moment before tossing several gold coins onto the mattress along side of the Cockney. When Charlie looked up after securing the payment, Sparrow had vanished like he had never been there. The grubby little fellow shrugged; he had his payment and there were women and drink to be had. He did not care what Sparrow did with the information, just so long as gold and silver came his way.

TBC

A/N. Thanks as always to those who have taken the time to leave a review; I love/live to hear from others who hang in there with my slow postings.

For those who may be interested, Pierre le Moyne, Sieur d'Iberville, was one of a large and prominent early Québec family. His exploits are the stuff of legend and, had he been based in France, rather than the New World, far more people would know of him today. He was one of the great explorers and campaigned effectively and ruthlessly in many areas, from Hudson Bay to Newfoundland and down to the Caribbean, before dying of fever (possibly malaria or yellow fever) in Havana, Cuba, in 1706. Some links for those who may like more information about a genuine soldier, sailor and freebooter are:

http/ for New Orleans, it was founded by Jean Baptiste le Moyne, Sieur de Bienville, one of d'Iberville's brothers. Mobile and Biloxi are two of the places founded by d'Iberville along the way. 

12


	13. Clear Skies at Last

**Chapter ??? Clear Skies Once More.**

James was bored. He was buried deep in the depths of ennui (at least the French had a decent name for it) and he was not certain if he would crawl back out of it before he went totally, utterly, barking mad. He was in his bed chamber in his own comfortable house, certainly, but he was forced to remain stretched out with his leg propped up on pillows and unable to ease up high enough to catch so much as a glimpse of anything more interesting than the sky and tree tops. If he was fortunate, a squawking gull might soar by, to remind him that there was a world beyond the four walls he was currently incarcerated behind.

He did not recall precisely the return to Port Royal and the journey up from the harbour. Probably for the best, he considered, for they must have had to haul him up in a cart like so much dead weight. Even with the best intentions, it could not have been done without much jostling and shaking and he was actually rather glad to have missed that part of the operations.

Once returned to his home, he had been quite fevered and unable to discern where the dreams ended and reality began. Norrington recalled jumbled impressions of men in uniform, Weatherby Swann along with his hoydenish daughter and most unsuitable almost son-in-law, his own housekeeper's worried face, and a number of strangers to whom he could not assign names. The laudanum they kept dosing him with might have made his body more comfortable but the opiate gave him the worst dreams imaginable; always had done, now he came to think on it.

Perhaps the most peculiar memory was one of a great black ship and a very odd assortment of sailors, definitely not proper Navy, that lot. He had a fair notion what the ship must have been but no idea whatsoever how he had come to be aboard her, if indeed he had ever been. His presence would probably have upset the crew of such a vessel; few pirates would wish to be so close to the man responsible for the demise of a great many of their kind. In a way, he rather wished he had been in his right mind at the time; it would have been interesting to observe what sort of crew Sparrow commanded.

Sparrow. Just thinking the name brought the face back to the forefront of his mind. For all his faults and irritating habits, no one could ever accuse Jack Sparrow of being boring. For a moment, James thought he might have liked the madman to come by for a visit to his sickroom; the diversion would have been much appreciated but the risk to the pirate was far too great here in Port Royal.

James sighed. There really was a hell and he was in it until the doctor and his flock of mother hens saw fit to release him from his captivity in his room. He could tolerate confinement for a while as long as he had access to his study and collection of books and other things. Maybe if he put on a good face he could persuade them to bring something up for him to read, a drawing book or something; he was heartily sick of counting the cracks in the ceiling plaster. It would be even nicer if someone thought to haul the chessboard up seeing as he would not be going any where under his own power in the near future. Feeling uncharacteristically sorry for himself, James sniffed in pathetic indignation and fell asleep in the midst of his lamentations against the prickles of boredom and the unfairness of it all.

He slept deeply through the remainder of the morning and the afternoon, only waking when a quiet knock on his bedchamber door roused him. He called out permission to enter and was utterly delighted to see two of his lieutenants creep in, recognizing by their unnaturally subdued miens that Mrs. Bloom had put her foot down firmly to quell any hint of loud voices or disturbance to her employer's rest. He smiled in relief at seeing them, perhaps they had managed to bring something to entertain him with; at the very least, he hoped they would have news from the fort.

"Mr. Groves and Mr. Gillette! How good of you to come by and visit your poor sick commander."

There was a momentary hesitation on the part of both officers; the Commodore was notorious for being a cranky and ill-tempered patient when he was on the mend. The two friends looked at each other to confirm their ears had indeed heard the cheery effusive greeting. The nearly identical worried frowns almost caused Norrington to laugh but he restrained the impulse, not wishing to have the broken ribs resume their vociferous complaints against him.

"He really must be desperate if he's sounding like that, Theo," Gillette whispered very quietly. His companion nodded slightly in agreement. Tacitly deciding they had best get a move on whilst their superior officer was in such a fulsome mood, the men approached his bed warily. There was no way to tell how long the good temper would last. They politely made their bows and doffed their cocked hats; holding the hats would disguise the fidgeting hands.

"Good evening, sir. It is very good to see you awake today and looking much improved."

Groves as the senior of the pair made the opening remark, choosing to keep his voice down and forcing himself not to glance around behind him lest he draw the attention of the current guardian no doubt lurking somewhere within ear shot. Gillette had no such qualms and kept a weather eye out lest the stout little woman should suddenly appear out of nowhere to read a sermon over them on the proper behaviour required in Norrington's sickroom.

Under less worrisome situations, the woman regarded both the young officers as part of Norrington's extended family and spoiled them almost as much as she did her employer. The times when her Commodore had been returned home injured were something else again, however, and she watched over her charge fiercely. They would all be much relieved and happier once their friend and leader had advanced sufficiently in his recovery to the point where the watch dogs could be called off.

"Thank you, Theodore, I do appreciate the sentiment. Come in here, you two, and stop lurking over there. Pull up some chairs. I am desperate to hear what news you have."

Norrington's eagerness, despite the tell tale signs of serious illness, eased the fears the two men had harboured since they had learned of the Commodore's injuries and subsequent trials from infection. Now that Norrington was clearly on the mend, both Groves and Gillette could draw relieved breaths and relate what the latest items of gossip were.

Groves knew his commander would want an update on the situations of the fort, its men, the ships and anything else that could come under his aegis. Carefully but succinctly, he summarised each area of interest, trying not to miss anything important but not so much that he would tire his friend unnecessarily. He had the sense to leave the gossip from around the fort and about Port Royal for Gillette whose waspish acid-tongued sense of humour was matched by observant brown eyes and a sharp mind.

The telling of tales was interrupted by Mrs. Bloom and the maid when they brought in a light meal for the Commodore, simple nourishing beef tea, a bit of buttered toast and a cup of fine oolong. Unfortunately, the housekeeper had also brought along a dose of the foul brew the doctor had left to be given to his patient.

The lieutenants assisted in raising up the Commodore and carefully propped his pillows around to keep him from experiencing fresh discomfort. Mrs. B. directed the manoeuvre and gave the younger men her nod of approval for the attention they gave the task. Once all had been arranged to her satisfaction, if not Norrington's, she fed him the broth, not permitting him to hold the spoon and do for himself. Knowing herself to be in the right of it, the woman ignored the irritated green glare that had been known to frighten recalcitrant officers and continued until he had obediently swallowed the last drop of the stuff.

"There now, sir, that will do nicely. These young officers can sit with you for a time, just so long as they do not overtire you and outstay their welcome. They can help you have your tea once you have drunk the posset the good doctor left on your behalf. There's more than enough tea for them as well."

Experience had taught the housekeeper to hold her ground with her employer. He did not tolerate cowardice very well and fortunately had been brought up with good manners instilled at an early age; he might rebel but she knew he would do as she made him. The subject of the doctor's potion was not something she would allow him to evade and both of them knew it. Sighing deeply, Norrington was resigned to his fate and swallowed the bitter brew as quickly as he could gag it down, resting his head back on his pillows after he had done.

"There's a good lad, now. You are to get some rest once the young gentlemen have had their say and have returned to their duties or wherever it is they need to be this evening."

She made this statement with a pointed glance over to the two young gentlemen in question, ensuring their compliance with a stern frown worthy of Norrington himself. Once the pair were properly cowed, she deemed them safe to be left alone for a few more moments with her charge and departed for the depths of the house and her own domain.

The three naval officers watched the empty doorway for a brief moment before turning to catch each other's eyes, heartfelt relief blatant in all of them. They remained in that pose until a snicker broke free from the youngest of the men; Gillette attempted valiantly to restrain himself but he began to laugh, softly lest he give the dragon cause to return. Norrington and Groves looked over to their friend and joined in, finding the whole situation hilarious. The pride of the Royal Navy had been put resoundingly into its place by one short woman as far around as she was tall.

The laughter was enough to finish Norrington's energy for the nonce; he had little stamina at this time and his body would force its needs on his waking mind very soon. The lieutenants exchanged looks before turning back to the Commodore to make their goodbyes. They had seen what they had hoped for and were reassured that the man's recovery would now be advancing more rapidly until he was able to return to his duties.

"I believe it is time for us to go now, James. You need your rest and now that we know you are getting better…"

"…not to mention we are being observed somehow by your lioness of a keeper." Gillette just could not resist getting his own jibe in over Theo's voice.

"…as I was attempting to say, we will be going. We'll come back in a day or two to see how you are getting along. Perhaps bring some of the paperwork that's been piling up on your desk; after all, you must miss it no end."

Norrington smiled warmly at his loyal friends, appreciating what they had had to do to get past Mrs. Bloom and the doctor to make it this far. He really was fatigued by them but held on long enough to ask a favour in turn.

"When you come back to visit, would you take pity on a poor suffering soul and bring a book or something with you, even the paperwork you've just threatened me with? I'm becoming desperate for relief from the ennui and yes, Dominic, I do know what that word means. After all, I'm living proof of it, aren't I?"

"Yes, James, 'living' being the operative word, non?"

Gillette's sherry brown eyes still showed traces of the fear he had had for the other man. It had been a very close call and although cats were said to have nine lives, Gillette did not believe that axiom applied to naval officers, senior or otherwise. Groves simply nodded in agreement, not needing to add anything more for the moment. James looked closely at the pair and he could see visible evidence of the anxiety he had caused in the handsome faces and the rather subdued air they still had. He had not meant to distress them but his injuries had not been by his choice. Still, he did see the need to reassure them if he could.

"Thank you, you two, I must apologise for putting you both through so much worry over me but it is always a risk in the profession we have chosen to pursue, you know. If the tables were turned and it was either of you in a similar position, I would be as concerned for it would be truly a sorrow to lose such a good friend. On a more practical note, I would take it as a kindness if you would fetch out the necessary as I really would prefer not to have to call Mrs. B. for that little matter. With all this tea and broths she keeps feeding me, I believe she has the mistaken belief my bladder has the capacity of that of a draught horse."

With that mundane request, all three decided they had had enough of the emotional and returned to their customary sniping and snarking. Groves fetched out the chamber pot as requested and they supported their friend, hauling the long nightshirt and the bedclothes clear but allowing him to deal with the mechanics after Gillette inquired, ever so politely, if James wanted him to hold it for him as well.

The invalid's reply was short, pithy and creatively obscene; unfortunately the effect was wholly wasted as James glanced over to the doorway in sudden apprehension that Mrs. B. was within earshot. Theo and Dominic grinned broadly at the sight of their courageous leader all but cowering. After James had finished his business, both lieutenants snickering at his deeply satisfied groan of relief, they assisted him to settle again amidst his pillows. Groves and Gillette began to make their way to the door but kindly promised to return with something to relieve the boredom, pardon, the "ennui" of the Commodore's sickroom.

Groves laughed and said he would be responsible for getting whatever it was past the dragon, even if he had to throw Gillette to her as a diversionary sacrifice. After all, Dominic was lowest of the three in terms of seniority and junior lieutenants were easily replaced, were they not? On that note, the bickering pair disappeared into the hall and Norrington could hear their clattering shoes on the stairs before the sound of the front door closing behind them returned the house to silence.

He waited for his housekeeper to return to ensure he had not been overly taxed by his visitors but such was his state, he was soundly in the Land of Nod before she entered his room. Mrs. Bloom just shook her head, clucking indulgently as she tidied up the cups and dinner tray; she was perfectly aware how much good the visit had done the injured man and now he would likely sleep through until the morning. He was not out of the woods completely yet but getting there much more quickly. She and the others would maintain their affectionate guard over his person to ensure he was not further stressed.

xoxoxoxoxox

Norrington slept the next day away, only waking for food and necessities. The day was overcast and the dullness helped keep him under. The house itself seemed to keep its usual creaks and noises to a minimum as well as did the household staff and nothing disturbed the man's rest.

By the time night had fallen, Norrington was wide awake and restive again but was not yet able to deal with finding a solution to the problem. He was mulling over the dilemma when a faint noise caught his attention. It sounded as if it was over by the window overlooking his garden and the sea but did not seem to belong to the normal night noises outside. The window was ajar as he detested a stuffy room, especially in Jamaica's climate, so whatever was making the sound was more likely to be outside rather than in. He listened for a moment but nothing further came so he squirmed around trying to get comfortable before attempting to get back to sleep.

There it was again. It was definitely coming from outside the house but he had no idea what it could be, possibly some sort of animal was on the vine-covered trellis on the house. Norrington was observing the window a bit more closely now as there were more sounds coming in; he shifted the netting aside, trying not to draw attention to where he lay. The notion that a thief might be making his way to the upper storey crossed his mind and he stretched over to the stand beside his bed, quietly pulling open the drawer to haul out the small pistol kept there. If it was just a cat or some such thing, then he would return the gun, no one the wiser.

Thusly prepared, the Commodore waited to ascertain the identity of the noise on the trellis, the boredom allayed quite nicely for the time being. There was a rustling and then a peculiar jingling. Frowning, he was sure he had heard something like it before and then it came to him where that had been. Snorting quietly to himself in sudden humour, of course, who else could possibly be climbing up the Commodore's trellis in the dark of night? Carefully Norrington erased all signs of laughter from his face and tried to put on that of the Scourge of Piracy (Lord, how he detested that moniker) and trained the pistol on the open window.

Heavens, now the man was humming that blasted pirate song again, did he not know any others? One of these days, Norrington was going to have to take Elizabeth to task for that ditty and remind her to be more choosy of whom she taught it to. Good Lord, this invasion was taking forever, what more did the idiot mean to do before getting himself into the room? If he did not hurry it up, Norrington was going to shoot just to get some action going, even if it would mean bringing out the Watch to chase a wayward pirate.

Finally, the familiar cocked hat appeared above the window ledge, accompanied by the beads, jinglies and that long thing that looked like a stingray spine, all wrapped up in the faded red head scarf. The face was down turned, obscured by the wild mane of dark hair and the trinkets, so Norrington had to wait until the head was raised to witness the expression on the swarthy, sweating face as his visitor realized that first, his host was wide awake, and second, there was a rather fine pistol aimed directly at his head. Startled, the climber lost his grip on the window frame and slipped down only to reappear warily, one dark eye sneaking a peek around the jamb before venturing higher.

"Are you sure you want to be pointing that thing at me, Commodore?"

"Quite certain, Mr. Sparrow."

A thoughtful pause.

"Ah."

"Indeed."

"That's really not very polite, you know, threatening to shoot a man who's come all this way to visit you on your sickbed." This admonishing statement was delivered in a most aggrieved voice, made even more so by the low volume Jack had to keep to lest he rouse the household.

"Well, you must understand, most of my legitimate visitors arrive through the front door in the day time, not via the window after ascending my trellis in the middle of the night."

"I didn't actually want to meet your housekeeper; right now she's probably sleeping the sleep of the just. From what I saw yesterday, that woman most likely could give Anamaria a run for her money."

"Come now, Sparrow, Mrs. Bloom can hardly be compared to your female pirate. Hmm, or is it 'piratess'? Your pardon, I digress. What do you mean 'what you saw yesterday'?"

"You knowwhen those two little officers of yours were visiting. That woman had both of 'em on the run without raisin' a sweat."

Norrington really could not help himself, he broke out into a wide grin at the picture he suddenly had of his short, stout, middle-aged housekeeper plying her broom and driving all sorts of pirates and naval officers before her in full rout. Sparrow looked relieved to see the smile on a man he had come to admire and even like, for all his faults, most notably that of being a King's man. Deciding he was not going to be shot right now, Jack hoisted himself into the room and paused for a moment to restore his appearance; he had swung his sword around to the back and tucked his own pistol into the back of the sash before scaling the trellis. He then sauntered over to the Commodore's bed and looked down at the man, ignoring the pistol, trusting Norrington not to shoot him without cause.

Pirate Captain and Naval Commodore gazed at each other in sombre silence, the one standing by the foot of the bed, leaning up against the spiral carved mahogany post and the other propped up by a mound of pillows, each seeing clearly the marks of their adventure together and the toll it had taken of both men. Each had lost weight from his injuries, lending both a gaunt, starved look, neither man having been fat to begin with.

"I am pleased to see you looking better, James. You did have us worried there for a time."

"Thank you, Jack. I can say the same about you but we appear to have survived once again where others have not."

"Aye, that's true enough."

"By the way, how did you manage to escape the grasping clutches of your own watch dragons, Jack? I really cannot picture any of them allowing you to merely wander off on your own, particularly Gibbs and Anamaria, now that they almost have you properly trained."

Jack's sudden expression of cunning superiority returned the smile to James' face. For all his faults, Sparrow could never be said to be dull. While James waited to hear the answer, he passed the pistol over to the pirate, gesturing for it to be returned to the drawer.

"Looking for pointers, are you, Jamie?"

"My name is James. You know that perfectly well."

"Well, right now I think Jamie fits you better. Much less starched up. Look at you, no wig, no uniform, no other fancy bits. That's interestin' - would have thought you'd have shaved your head like most of them as wears wigs. Didn't take note of it before. Could hardly call you "Commodore" looking like that. You might almost pass for human at the moment. This is quite the pretty little pistol. Mind if I ask where you came by it?"

While they spoke, Jack had been inspecting the small gun, passing it back and forth between one hand and the other in order to accent his words with the unoccupied hand. The gun was beautifully crafted and balanced perfectly, a tasteful amount of chased silver adding a bit of decoration to what was a very practical firearm.

"It was made for me before I left England the first time. I was a very small, very shy young midshipman and was in danger of being bowled over by anything much larger."

"Grew some, you did. Must have fed you well on those Navy ships."

"Not that I recall but I seemed to grow regardless of the diet, as the scars on my forehead, elbows and shins can attest."

"Probably enjoyed the occasional rat on the menu too, I would imagine, seeing as how midshipmen are such hungry little buggers."

"When we could catch them, especially the younger rats; the older ones were used to being hunted so they made fewer mistakes. Better if they were fattened up on ship's biscuit first, of course."

Norrington had been watching as Jack almost caressed the little pistol, the agile restless hands wandering over its surface, learning its character. He also paid strict attention to another of Captain Jack Sparrow's well-known traits and decided it was time to remind the man.

"I really hesitate to interrupt you when you are busy making love to my pistol but it would be appreciated if you returned it to the drawer as I requested. I haven't forgotten your jackdaw tendencies."

Jack had not been paying close heed to what his hands were doing and looked down in dismay at being caught in the act. He had to allow that the Commodore likely had the right of it and it would not have taken much to tuck the sweet little thing into a pocket out of sight. He ostentatiously opened the drawer and put the gun away, pouting regretfully as he shut the drawer on it. He turned back to Norrington to see an amused smile on the lean face and the striking eyes crinkled in humour and no little understanding. In turn, he grinned, the candlelight glinting brightly off the gold and silver in his teeth, for once completely without affectations.

"I would offer you refreshments if I could but Mrs. Bloom has made certain there is nothing in this room that could interfere with my recovery. If nothing else, pull up a chair and tell me how things are going on the Black Pearl or if that's too sensitive a subject, then any story will do."

"Not to worry, I came prepared and brought my own refreshment. Even brought a little something for you in case you were well enough to partake of a dram or two."

With that remark, Jack hunted through his pockets and pulled out two fine silver flasks, one of which he handed to James. James inspected the metal, admiring the elegance of the design and the heavily répousséed surface, wondering where Jack had come by it. Removing the top, he sniffed the contents and recognized a fine rum, not the usual rotgut sold in the taverns down along the waterfront. He quirked an eyebrow at Jack who had been observing him with a knowing eye.

"I know you highbrowed types prefer brandy but this is something out of the ordinary and seeing as how I am offering to share in your time of trial, I don't think you're in a position to be choosy, mate."

"I _am_ a sailor, you know, Jack, and I have nothing whatsoever against a good rum. So here's to your health and continued success in someone _else_'s territory."

James raised his flask in salute and took a small sip, savouring the flavours of the rum as he let it trickle slowly down his throat. He was not certain how much would be needed to get him well to go in his present condition and he had no desire to have his keepers descend on him in righteous outrage. Jack took a rather long swig from his flask, tipping his head back as he swallowed, the light catching the sheen on the long neck and chest as his Adam's apple worked.

Jack contented himself with the one drink, resealing his flask and tucking it away. He returned to the window and hauled up on a rope Norrington had not noticed, pulling in a canvas sack. He brought the bag over to the floor beside the bed and then fetched a chair over so he could sit down in comfort; he was tiring much more easily than he normally did and the climb up the trellis had taken its toll of him. Jack opened the bag and took out several items, including three heavily gold-leafed books and an intriguing box.

The books he handed to James to deal with, careful not to jar the man's broken ribs, after holding each one up in turn to display. James was intrigued by the titles the pirate considered suitable for entertaining an invalid, a collection of Shakespeare's bawdier works meriting a quirked brow before it was carefully tucked under the pillows for later perusal. Jack opened the broad flat box, taking out several chamois bags and then reversed the box to reveal a traveling games board. He placed it carefully on the bed beside Norrington who was watching intently, very wide awake now and not the faintest bit bored.

Jack held the bags out to Norrington, telling him to pick one. James did so and then was permitted to open it as the pirate shifted the books aside onto the night stand. To his real pleasure, a chess set was revealed, each piece carefully tucked in a pocket in a pair of crimson silk rolls. James passed one roll to Jack to deal with whilst he removed the men in the other.

"Ah, good choice. Chess it is, then." Jack put the remaining bags aside, before continuing, "I also have draughts and backgammon if you prefer."

"Chess is fine, Jack, I always like to see new sets." James peered over to inspect the pieces Jack held out to show him before returning his own attention to the ones he held.

The white pieces were ivory, old and yellowed with age and handling and as mellow and soft to touch as the silk. The shapes were fairly simple but the faces were exquisitely done portraits in the oriental style, rather than crude stock pieces. The black pieces were ebony, equally fine and worn; the figures portrayed with African features and dress. The ivory pieces were mounted on bases of deeply golden, clear Baltic amber while the black men stood firmly on dark-veined malachite. The set was obviously a well loved one and Jack's hands showed the respect he had for it. James followed the example and set out his players on the board, anticipating learning more about the elusive will-o-the-wisp sitting beside him.

Jack looked at James, easily reading the inquisitiveness in the green eyes but just shook his head in negation, a slight smile on his face. He understood perfectly well the puzzle he presented to the Commodore but he would let Norrington have only a trifle here and there. After all, Captain Jack Sparrow was a legend and legends had to protect their mysteries.

"Don't look so put out, Jamie. I came here to have a visit with you, play a game, share a drink and then I'll be on my way until the next time. You'll just have to be satisfied with that much. For now, we have a chess board set up and I'm of a mind to see what sort of player you are, Mister Norrington."

"All right, Mister Sparrow. I'll leave things as you want. I was wishing for something to relieve the boredom and here you are, in the flesh, bearing presents, so that will have to content me for the time being. Perhaps someday you will tell me more."

"Maybe I will at that, James. Now, make your move so we can get on with this game, eh? You're still not recovered so I don't know how long you'll last tonight so hurry up, man."

With that, their game began but neither was able to go the distance due to their respective fatigue. The morning sun found both sailors sound asleep, the chess board in disarray between them and the candles guttered out. Jack was slumped down in the chair, his head pillowed on one arm, the other hand tucked up under his chin catching a bit of drool trailing down from his open mouth, his upper torso resting on the bed beside Norrington's legs. The Commodore had his face buried in his pillow and still clutched a bishop, interrupted in his move by his body's demand for slumber. A kindly person would say both men were breathing heavily but a more truthful one would say the two sleepers were attempting to snore the house down.

This was the scene which greeted the housekeeper when she came in to check on the Commodore in the morning. That Norrington had been wakeful did not surprise her; however, what did surprise her was the scruffy excuse for a visitor. She knew the man had not come in the front door as that was still locked tight which meant he had come in by other means, probably the wide-open window she could see across the chamber. Apparently the dirty creature had spent the night, keeping her charge from his needed sleep playing games until the wee small hours, bringing who knew what vermin in with it to top matters off.

She marched over to it and, with the knob end of her broom, gave a good stiff poke to the arm not buried under the rat's nest of a head. At first, there was no response so she hauled off and swatted him hard enough to wake him up. Mrs. Bloom watched with some satisfaction as her second attempt did the trick. Startled, the creature sat up abruptly with a distinct grunt, blinking blearily at her, his mind not yet awake. The Commodore continued to snuffle into his bunched up pillow, oblivious to the plight of his unannounced nocturnal guest.

"Here now, just what do you think you're doing in here, whoever you are? You certainly didn't come in by the front door like a proper Christian person ought to do. Looks to me like you came in that there window, you did. And keeping Himself up half the night, no doubt, just when we finally turned the corner with him after what those nasty pirates did to the poor wee thing."

Jack's brain cells were still reluctant to get back on the job, leaving him to deal with the irate housekeeper all on his onesies. This put him at a distinct disadvantage, seeing as how the woman had him dead to rights. It was no wonder to him at all why those two junior officers had taken themselves off so quickly the other day. All Jack had left to woo the savage beast were his natural charms and winsome smile; he was fearful that those would not suffice to save his hide today.

He shot out of the chair, keeping it as a shield between the short woman, her broom and himself. He took a quick look over to the bed and hissed at James to wake up, show some signs of life, and help him out here before he wound up having to make a sudden departure out through the window and back down that cursed trellis. As he scrambled to find safety, Jack let his facile tongue try to take up the slack and get him out of the fix he was in.

"Ah, you _must _be the most wonderful, talented, marvellous Mrs. Bloom. I've heard _so _much about you. James is ever so attached to you, you know, and he said _all_ those lovely things which made me want to meet you for myself so here I am and here he is and here you are although I hadn't quite pictured our meeting exactly like this. Not having been properly introduced and all that."

Captain Jack Sparrow would have vastly entertained his crew, the blacksmith and his strumpet, and Norrington's officer friends, had they had the privilege to have been present to witness the debacle. So much for the greatest pirate in the Caribbean, trounced by a stout middle-aged housekeeper armed only with a twig broom. In desperation, he scooted around, trying to keep clear of her, babbling as fast as he could to placate the beldame and remain out of reach of that confounded weapon of hers.

Jack shot another glance at his one chance of salvation, fervently hoping the man was finally going to wake up. How the fellow could sleep through all this racket defied belief. He was about to holler out "Commodore!" when he noticed the eye of James that had not been hidden in the pillow was open and observing with the most disgusting amount of glee the goings on in the bed chamber.

"You…! You …! Commodore, you! You're wide awake, blast you, and not lifting a finger to help me out here! And after all I've gone through for your sake and me not even in your bloody Navy!"

Jack could be described as righteously incensed at this juncture but the look of desperate panic on his face, not to mention the swirling braids and flying hands, with Mrs. Bloom in hot pursuit was sufficient to do Norrington in and he could no longer hold back the hilarity that had been squelched in his pillow. His deep laughter rang out, drawing the attention of his guardian away from Sparrow; James gasped a bit in pain as his ribcage protested its displeasure along with the harmony from his wounded leg but it was worth every scrap of discomfort to have been present for such a debacle.

"Mister James! Do you mean to tell me that this dratted hairy pirate actually _is_ a guest in the house?"

"Yes, dear lady, Jack truly is welcome here. Please do not cause him further injury than he has already suffered in saving my life."

James put on his best little boy look, wiping the tears of laughter from the corners of his eyes, knowing perfectly well that his long time housekeeper was exceptionally vulnerable to that particular expression. He made certain to play upon the pirate's own injuries, sustained in aid of the Commodore, to gain sympathy with Mrs. Bloom. He dared not catch Jack's eyes for fear he would burst out laughing again and carefully did not look around to witness the shameful sight of the man hiding behind the draperies hanging at the head of the bed. He did glance up most circumspectly through long lashes to gauge the effect of his performance. Had he not been in fear for his life, Jack would have been more impressed by the act, he had thought for some time Norrington was far more devious than what he presented to the world.

Mrs. Bloom knew perfectly well she was being manipulated but decided it was well worth the nonsense and uproar to see her young charge begin to look himself again, even if what it took was a pirate. She was no fool, she knew who the visitor to the house was; land's sakes, everyone in the town had heard the descriptions of Jack Sparrow and the Black Pearl and all the rest of it. A bit of discomfort was a small price to pay to ease the boredom plaguing Norrington. She decided to make peace with the scruffy excuse of a pirate and issued her order to the varmint.

"You may as well get out from behind that bed curtain; it's not as if you're invisible, you know."

The fabric was pulled back and Jack's shocked face peered out. He would remain cautious until the fiend disarmed herself and stood down. He frowned at her in dismay.

"You mean… I'm _not _invisible?"

"Of course, you aren't, you ridiculous thing. Now get out here where I can have a proper look at you. Come on now. I won't hurt you."

A most disgraceful muffled snort came from Norrington's direction. She turned on him next, not fooled for an instant by the long fingers spread out over the attractive face to conceal the grin even as the laughing eyes gave him away. Arms akimbo, she stood and fixed a stern look upon the other of the pair; it certainly would not do to chastise the one and not t'other, most boys having natural in-born notions of fair play. Fortunately she did not catch Jack sticking his tongue out at James, not that it would have surprised her.

"And you now. You're just lucky you haven't done yourself another injury, you are. If he's supposed to be a guest, you should be a better host and introduce him properly."

At this sign of concession and acceptance, Jack slithered out into the open and put on his best face to please the lady, pressing his hands together and bowing extravagantly before her. He peeked up to check her expression lest he needed to bolt abruptly to safety. She in turn examined him; once one got past the nonsensical hair and the kohl, and yes, the grime, she realized the scamp was actually a handsome man and the glint in those bold eyes made her want to laugh. This one had just as much of the hopeful little boy in him as did her Mister James and the rascal had probably been using that charm to get his own way since he was but a tiny child in nappies.

"My dear Mrs. Bloom, may I have the honour of presenting to you one Captain Jack Sparrow, pirate extraordinaire, at least in his own mind? Captain Sparrow, this is Mrs. Bloom, the tyrant who rules my household with an iron hand and a lethal broom."

Both protagonists turned to stare at Norrington in a united expression of affront. He just smiled amiably at them and shrugged lightly; he knew perfectly well he was safe from both for the time being, at least as long as he was the one confined to bed rest. He did think to make a reminder concerning his visitor's safety and continued well-being.

"Well, you know, it's not as if Jack's presence here can be bruited about the town, Mrs. B.; he is still a pirate, if a trifle out of the common style. Although we have begun to address the issue, until that situation is remedied for the better, Jack is still in danger here, as well as my self. You do understand, do you not?"

"Yes, sir. It's morning now and he won't be able to get clear until nightfall without raising the Watch and all against him. We can't have that; no, not at all. I'll make sure the others understand and keep their tongues still. You need to get your breakfast and then rest and as for him, he can have the guest room next door and get washed up properly. A bath would likely do wonders for him. I'll see one is made ready for him. He can use some of your garments while his own are laundered, it won't matter that they are a bit long since he won't be seen, but no sense in putting a clean body into dirty clothes, I say. If we have visitors, then he can keep out of sight in there for no one would be expecting to see such a thing in a respectable house like this one."

Jack looked back and forth at them during this exchange, realizing that something had changed again in his relationship with James Norrington, Royal Navy, and that the man's faithful housekeeper had been enlisted in the cause. He knew that they were all treading a dangerous line but he decided he liked this change in the weather, even with the threat of a bath, and wanted to see where it would take them. He had not lived this long without learning which battles could not be fought. Smiling sweetly with no trace of cunning, he caught up the woman's work-roughened hand and kissed the back of it with a formal bow, an honest expression of thanks openly on his face.

James looked on and shook his head slightly as he watched Jack Sparrow make another conquest. He thought, rather unkindly, that bathing Sparrow would be on the same lines as trying to give a large cat a bath; the next few hours promised to be quite entertaining but he would place his wager on Mrs. B. to emerge the victor in the battle. He had wished for respite from the boredom and someone, somewhere, had heeded his request even if the answer had not been the one he had had in mind. Life would never be boring with the likes of one Captain Jack Sparrow running loose through it.

The End… for now

**Epilogue. Bird Bath** (for Elsa)

It had taken very little time for Mrs. Bloom to organize the household to prepare a bath for their unexpected visitor. She had taken precautions, of course, accustomed to dealing with recalcitrant lads when hers were growing up. Jack had been commanded to stay with the Commodore, keeping the invalid entertained, and to stay out of sight at the windows while he did so or else she would know the reason why. She had brought up a tray of savoury and sweet foods for Sparrow and a tray of lighter fare for the man abed recovering from his injuries. Lads were usually easy to bribe with food and she watched in satisfaction as the delightful aromas made both her charges take notice to the exclusion of other goings on in the house.

"Here, you pirate, make yourself useful and help Mister James to sit up whilst I rearrange his pillows. It's time he was sitting up now anyway, seeing as how he is healing. Once you've done that, then you will change into the robe I've laid out for you in the dressing room yonder. Those clothes of yours will be cleaned and tidied up for you as I can see they are sorely in need of attention. Just leave them in there for the time being, I'll fetch them shortly."

James was delighted with the stunned look that appeared on Jack's face as the man was ordered about with ruthless and relentless efficiency but knew better than to interfere or offer sympathy to the victim. Usually it was the Commodore who retreated before the tyrant of the household. It was very nice to see some other unfortunate take the brunt of Mrs. Bloom's attention. When Jack turned to stare at James in horrified dismay, it was all the latter could do to keep a straight sympathetic face.

"You mean to tell me that _this _is what always goes on in your house, James? I had no idea how under the cat's paw you really were; small wonder that you are the way you are up at your little fort."

James noticed that Jack was very careful to keep his voice down so that the housekeeper did not catch what was said. He could have told Jack that it would not have made any difference, Mrs. B. always seemed to know what was said or done in the house no matter where she happened to be. He had grown accustomed to her prescience and no longer gave it a thought as the little woman had proven her faithfulness and worth years since.

"It's far simpler to do as she commands, Jack, and then you can enjoy the tray she's brought up for you. She must approve of you, God knows why, seeing the treats that you get to indulge in. I'm just starting to get something more than beef tea only now. I cannot tell you how much I loathe the stuff but I know my limits with regard to my guardian."

"Beef tea? I'd forgotten such stuff exists. At least, what she's brought up for me looks a treat, smells wonderful, too."

Jack made to sit down at the little table that had been drawn up alongside Norrington's bed but the Commodore stopped him with a reminder.

"Jack, you know what your orders are. Now go along into my dressing room and do as you were told. There should be a silk robe there that is gaudy enough for even your tastes."

Jack glared at the invalid but to no avail. James was completely impervious to the nasty stare; to be expected, considering all the little lads in blue and red he ordered about all day long. In high dudgeon and pouting like a thwarted five year old, he stalked over to the chest of drawers beside the window and began to divest himself of things that should not be subjected to a laundress's care, beginning with his sword and baldric, the pistol in its holster, the compass, and sundry items from his capacious pockets. James was amused by the performance and quite intrigued by the variety and amounts of stuff to be found on or about Jack's person.

"I think you were misnamed, Jack. From what I can see piling up over there, Jackdaw would be more suitable than Sparrow for a name although it would be a trifle ridiculous. Can hardly imagine you boasting of being "Captain Jack Jackdaw," I must say. It doesn't flow well at all."

Jack looked over to where James was propped up, pleased to see the man looking more himself, however the insult could not be allowed to pass unnoticed.

"Well, I don't know about yourself, Jamie-lad, but when I go about a place, I like to have the essentials with me. Never know when they might be needed and I don't always have time to go back to the Pearl and fetch them."

"I believe we have rather different notions of what constitutes essential, Jack."

"I had to make do for a lot of years and most of that time relied on what I could carry with me. You'd be amazed at what I found to be useful in a pinch."

"Consider me amazed then. Ah, Jack, you might want to hurry it up and be divested of your clothing and into my robe before she comes back. Mrs. B. raised three fine strapping sons all bigger than I am and they, and her husband, all jump smartly to do her bidding. I cannot see that one little pirate is going to stand much chance and if you are not done when she gets here, she will take it upon herself to strip you where you stand."

"She wouldn't!"

"She most certainly would."

James really could not be blamed for the smug look that crept over his face as he teased his visitor. The crowning touch came when they heard footsteps in the hallway outside the bedchamber followed by a short rap. His eyes stretched wide in fright, Jack fled in a panic to the relative safety of the dressing room, quickly locking the door behind him. James had no intention of mentioning the door on the other side of the small room that accessed the bathing chamber. When his own door opened, Mrs. B. entered and, not seeing the pirate, glanced to her charge in enquiry. James simply pointed to the door in question and mimed Jack locking it, not hesitating one instant to tattle on his uninvited guest.

"Well, the lad's nought to fear for a while just yet. I've brought up some nice towels and wanted to ask him what he would like to have for the mid-day meal. I'm ever so sorry, sir, but the doctor said that you are to be on light meals only until he gives leave for something more substantial. I'll go along now to fetch his clothes to go down to the scullery for cleaning."

As she spoke, Mrs. Bloom simply went back into the hall and around through the bathing room to corner the pirate in the dressing area, more a passageway than a room. James smiled in satisfaction as he heard a loud squawk of incensed protest from Sparrow and then the sounds of a bit of a tussle accompanied by strident protestations. He hoped Jack would be careful and not use foul language around Mrs. B. as she had a fast hand with the soap and no known reluctance in the washing out of mouths she deemed in need of reminding. He was reasonably certain that the pirate would not actually harm his housekeeper; for all his faults, Jack was actually something of a gentleman.

The key turning in the lock drew his attention and the door opened to reveal a half-naked Sparrow clutching in desperation at his breeches, one boot off, attempting to ward off his attacker with his free hand.

"No! No! Not good! Not good! You really don't want to be doing this!"

"Yes, she does, Sparrow. There's no escape for you now and you thought _I_ was the ruthless one." James had to add his tuppence worth to the battleground before him.

"Now do stop acting so childishly, you are a grown man and should behave as one. Those dirty breeches are coming off so they can be laundered and you can have your nice bath."

Sparrow retreated backwards into Norrington's room and tripped over the thick Oriental rug that lay there, landing heavily on his back with a thud and an expulsion of breath, throwing out his arms to break his fall. Regrettably, this meant his tenuous grip on his breeches failed and Mrs. Bloom rapidly and inexorably shucked the Sparrow of the last of his garments and marched back to retrieve the rest before she returned to her lair below stairs, leaving Jack in the middle of the floor as naked as the day he was born, panting in speechless outrage.

"Put that nice silk robe on now, before you catch your death of cold. This is a decent house and I won't have dratted hairy pirates parading around here in their altogether."

The housekeeper's voice faded as she went about her business. Jack sat up and stared as her skirts disappeared around the far door, still shocked at the turn of events. He was accustomed to being slapped, certainly, but not assaulted in such an insensitive manner. A distinct giggle caught his attention and Jack twisted around to stare venomously at James who had succumbed to near hysterics. For someone who was supposed to be feared by all the Brethren in the Caribbean, Norrington could certainly giggle (and it was _not_ a laugh) with the best of them. Shocking, that was.

"What do you think you're doing, laughing like that at a guest in your house? You are a disgrace to the Royal Navy, you are. What would your little officers think if they could see you acting like this? You should be ashamed of yourself, Commodore Norrington."

Jack's expression of insulted dignity was enough to send James into howls of laughter, at least until his ribs reminded him that that was really not a good idea. He tried to compose himself and put a serious, concerned face on as he made to answer Jack. A snicker escaped despite his best intentions, setting him off again.

"I really did try to warn you, Jack. You just weren't taking me seriously, that's all."

Sparrow frowned and opened his mouth to make a nasty retort but Norrington interrupted, thoughtfully reminding him that Mrs. B. would not be gone for long and that it would really be a good idea to fetch that robe. Jack looked frightened for an instant then bolted to his feet and scampered to get covered before the dragon returned, entertaining James mightily. Jack had quite an assortment of tattoos scattered around his body in addition to a number of scars, perhaps he could be persuaded to talk about some of them at some time. The robe did not really help matters as it was too long for the shorter man and the hem trailed a bit behind him as he wrapped it around his narrow waist and tied it snugly.

Jack held out his arms to admire the colourful fabric, rather surprised to find something so fanciful in Norrington's possession. He stroked along the sleeves and down the front of the robe, liking the luxurious feel of the silk as well as its bright greens and blues. He swaggered over to take his seat by the breakfast table, flipping out the linen napkin with extravagant flair and laying it over his lap. Jack was hungry and the selection on the tray was drawing his undivided attention; sniggering Commodores could wait whilst he attended to his meal.

"I don't know what you're going on about, I'm the one who gets to eat real food, not that milksop gruel you've been given."

Jack was pleased to see Norrington's face fall at the reminder. With hostilities suspended for the moment, the two men ate in peace. Jack enjoyed the finest meal he had had in ages, clearing every scrap of the substantial dishes the housekeeper had brought up for him. He peered into the last bowl and contemplated licking the last few traces but decided against it; his host would certainly notice and make rude comments but the housekeeper had already promised another meal later. James slowly ate the gruel and milk custard that were his fare, knowing that he really was not ready for heavier foods yet. It was not that much of a hardship as he usually ate sparingly, unlike most of his counterparts, part of the adaptation he had made to the climate and the better for it.

As the men finished, Jack carefully blotted his lips on the napkin and neatly laid it aside by his plate. Norrington had watched the table manners on display and wondered again where Jack had come from but that was a mystery for another time. For now, he was content with the company and the accord they seemed to have arrived at. James mentioned that Jack might want to take out some of the baubles in his hair, if that was possible, as he was certain that Mrs. B. would insist on the hair being washed.

Jack looked a bit blank and then reached up to his hair to pass his hand over the beads and keepsakes reminiscently, his eyes drifting out to the horizon visible through the open window. Gently, he removed his faded red head scarf and folded it neatly, laying it beside James with a request to keep it safe, please. The long stingray spine he released, as well as several strands of trinkets that had been braided into his hair, placing them on top of the scarf. The others would not come out so easily and he decided to leave them where they were for the time being. He had no idea what the housekeeper had in mind for him but hoped she would be careful of the things he held dear.

James might have laughed but he observed the gentle precision Jack's hands had for the gaudy ornaments and knew that the ornaments held strong memories for the exotic man. With an innate decency, Norrington would respect the other man's sensitivities and his privacy regarding them. Jack looked up and met James' eyes, seeing the understanding the other had come to. He quietly thanked him for that. For a moment, the pair looked at each other, realizing how far they had come since their first meeting.

Fortunately, before they could become overly sentimental or maudlin, Mrs. Bloom returned to the bathing room with the maid and lad behind her hauling the buckets of hot water up to the tub. The two men turned to watch the tub being set up, the pirate sighing in resignation, showing more unrest than he had at his attempted hanging.

"You'll enjoy it, Jack, it's quite a nice tub. I should know. There are some nice salts and oils there as well that you might enjoy. Feel free to choose whatever takes your fancy. I know you're still hurting from our little adventure and climbing up here last night had to have hurt, not to mention falling asleep the way you did. At least I can offer you some hospitality."

"Thank you, James. When you put it that way, it's not so bad an idea. It's just how yon female went about it that's so upsetting; small wonder your little officers are terrorized by her."

"They're not the only ones. I really don't know what you're worrying about, Jack, you've already made your conquest of her and she's all but adopted you even after such short acquaintance. Trust me, she wouldn't do this for most, especially not scruffy pirates who come calling unannounced in the middle of the night."

"Conquered her, you say? Hmm. This might work out after all."

Mrs. Bloom arranged the tub to her satisfaction and sent her assistants away below stairs, reminding them sternly to watch their mouths lest anything about their visitor slipped out. She then marched back into the Commodore's room and told Jack that his bath was ready and he was to come along now and not to let the water get cold. He did as she ordered and meekly went over to the tub, fervently praying she would go away and let him bathe in privacy; there were some females he would gladly have shared his bath with but the formidable housekeeper was definitely not of that persuasion.

"James said there were some salts and oils I could choose from. Do you know where they might be?"

Jack accompanied the request with his second-best begging face. She looked at him as if he was an idiot, of course she knew where they were. She opened a paneled door and one shelf was full of bathing accoutrements, including the offered items. Jack picked up several before deciding on something with fine English lavender in it, reminding him of places and people far away in his past. An odd thing, memory, he thought to himself, to be linked so strongly to smells.

She poured a goodly amount of the salts into the water and stirred it around well, before telling Jack to take the robe off and get in. She kindly turned her back on him and said she would wait until he was decently in the water. He looked taken aback at the idea but knew he would have to comply.

"Now, you're certain you won't turn around. I am a very shy person, you understand."

"Shy, is it? I would have said it was something else entirely. I wouldn't expect the likes of you to have a shy bone in his body."

Jack stuck his foot in the water, wincing a bit at the heat but brought the other foot in to join the first. As he became accustomed to the heat, he sat down in the tub, holding on to the tall sides to lower himself in slowly, hissing and catching his breath as the near scalding water crept up his body. He had some fears for the wedding tackle but he protectively kept his legs together until he acclimated to the heat. Once all the way in, he caught his breath and let it out in a long slow sigh of relief and turned to Mrs. Bloom who had indeed kept her word and still stood with her back to him.

"Alright, I'm in now. You are allowed to turn around."

"Well, that's looking better already. You soak there for a few minutes and then I'll be back to scrub your back and help you wash your hair."

As Jack opened his mouth to protest the assistance, she merely stared him down and he shut his mouth and sat back obedient and quiet. She had his number now and would make certain of his compliance, at least as it affected this house. Satisfied Jack had been sufficiently put in his place and would do as he had been told, she went through to Norrington's room to retrieve the now empty dishes and take them back downstairs with her. James looked up at her and they smiled smugly at each other.

"I knew you could do it, Mrs. B., he's no match for you."

"Of course not, just another lad in need of someone to care for him."

"There are those who would disagree with you on that score, my dear."

"I know, but this is here and now and that's what I have to work with. I understand that people have different faces for wherever they are; you do yourself, Mister James."

"True. Jack was injured recently and has not fully healed. Be careful of him and those ornaments in his hair; they are important to him."

"Of course, sir, he's a right scamp but a charmer for all that. We'll just have to take care and keep him safe, seeing as how he's still a known pirate."

"I'm working on finalising that last part, given his recent assistance to the Crown. Hopefully, I will soon no longer be constrained to hang him."

The housekeeper nodded in agreement and picked up the tray and left. It did not take long until Norrington heard singing coming from the area of his bath tub. Jack apparently had decided to approve the demand for cleanliness and was splashing about quite happily for a short time and then silence fell. James could see the tub from where he lay and suspected Jack was dozing in the hot water, something he was himself prone to do when fatigued. Before he could get too worried, Mrs. Bloom returned and went over to the tub, gently waking the sleeper before he could drown.

She pushed Jack forward, exposing his back and she lathered up the sponge with a fine soap and scrubbed the lean body with long swirling strokes, careful to wash gently over the bruises and scabbed cuts. From the flinches, she would not be surprised to find there were some cracked ribs in the mix to boot, causing her to wonder just how he had managed to climb up to the Commodore's window but she kept her peace. Rinsing his back she then did his arms, not commenting on the pain and hurt the scars and brand represented, just hummed soothingly as she soaped and rinsed. The hands she held up for closer inspection, tsking a bit at their state before taking up the soft bristle brush and carefully but thoroughly scrubbing the nails and knuckles until she was satisfied, despite the squirms and yowls. She did his chest with a quick impersonal efficiency, doing her best not to disturb the old musket wounds or the new gouges in his tanned skin. Mrs. Bloom held Jack's chin by the convenient beard braids, not allowing him to wiggle away from her as she carefully washed his face.

"Close your eyes, now, pet, there's a love. Don't want to get them full of soap, do we?"

Jack made as if to answer her.

"And keep that cheeky mouth closed too, even fine soap such as this doesn't taste as good as it smells."

The soapy sponge swept over his face and he kept both his eyes and his mouth shut tight in defence. The grip she had on his beard was not overly tight but was sufficient to keep him under control. The sponge was taken away and then returned with fresh water to rinse the soap suds from his skin.

"Once your hair is done, then you can wash the rest of you, seeing as how you're such a shy, modest wee thing. Be sure you do a proper job of it, too, else I'll take care of that as well."

The horrified stare he turned on her lacked a bit of its usual flair, seeing as how the remnants of kohl had been removed, along with much of the grime he had arrived with. Giving him no time to gather himself for a protest, the housekeeper moved swiftly, pouring several dippers of water over his head before reaching for the soft soap she had prepared for the task. The wild mane would look and feel ever so much nicer once it was cleaned and had at least an attempt at brushing it though Heaven alone knew the last time the long hair had had such attention. She had suspicions regarding possible vermin but she would do her best. The soap she worked into the strands, being very careful not to damage the beaded bits; although curious about what they represented, Mrs. Bloom decided that for the time being she would not trouble her new charge for the details. She had a feeling that there were memories attached to each thing and that some were close to the boy's heart.

"The soap will have to do for now but next time, I'll make up a nice egg shampoo which should do wonders for your hair. Yes, indeed, and a nice rosemary and lavender rinse after a vinegar drench will finish the job nicely, I shouldn't wonder. At least you have a good head of hair to your name, lad, unlike some hereabouts I could name, should I be of that sort of nature." Mrs. Bloom was completely oblivious to the look of renewed fright on her latest charge's face.

Norrington had been observing as best he could from where he lay propped up in his bed and the sight of the pirate nuisance being scrubbed down by his housekeeper was one he would treasure for some time to come. He considered himself to be privileged to have been present at the "_Bathing of Captain Jack Sparrow"_ and was completely prepared to use ruthlessly the information if ever he needed to one-up Jack. The man truly did look pathetic, especially at the moment, with all the soap suds piled into the sodden mane of tangled hair but James knew Jack was in no danger, aside from embarrassment. He calculated that it would not take Jack too long to enjoy the sensation of being cared for, the hot bath and fancy salts as well as clean clothes; after all, the pirate was a hedonist when circumstances permitted.

Norrington let his thoughts drift away from the spectacle as Jack was allowed to wash his nether regions while Mrs. B. tidied up the bathing area. When he was finished, she picked up the bucket of nice clean water that she had kept in reserve and proceeded to sluice it over the hair as a final rinse. Once done, she held up a large white sheet to preserve the scoundrel's modesty as she told him to hop up and get wrapped up quickly before he caught a chill, although James was not certain how Jack could catch cold, given the heat that was beginning to build as the day progressed. In no time, Jack was thoroughly enveloped with only his toes and his head left uncovered and Mrs. Bloom popped a towel over the hair as quick as could be. Privately James thought it looked a bit like a shroud but he was not going to mention that particular observation.

Jack was shooed out of the bathing room and back into Norrington's chamber and made to sit down on a stool with his back to the window for better light. James caught Jack's attention with his eyes, an expression of superior Commodorial smugness clearly showing. Jack snarled silently at him but the effort was wasted as the clean face and swaddling totally cancelled out the effect. James snidely raised his brows back at Jack, daring the other to make an issue of it with the housekeeper but a step away. A fast glance to the side and all Jack could do was make a face at James, lifting his lip in a sneer, before Mrs. Bloom returned with her implements of torture.

She placed the items on the table between Jack and James before pulling off the towel she had put on Jack's head to catch the drips. She spread his hair out over his shoulders and inspected each section, planning her campaign to restore the rat's nest to something approaching order. Making her decision, she picked up a wide comb and began to work out the tangled snarls, occasionally reaching for a fine lightly scented oil to ease the strands. The winces and mutterings of pain and insult she ignored, knowing she was not doing all that much damage to her newly adopted pirate. The work had to be done and it served him right for not taking proper care of himself for goodness knew how long. From time to time she had to resort to her scissors to take out an impossibly snarled bit but mostly she was able to pick through the mess to restore order amidst chaos.

When she was finished the initial currying, she neatly trimmed the ends and then put a bit of the lavender scented oil on her hands and worked it through the hair, massaging the scalp and dressing the hair to restore its softness and sheen. This part Jack was all in favour of, it felt so much better than when she was tugging and yanking at his scalp; combined with the hot bath it was enough to have him almost purring as he drifted closer to sleep. Mrs. Bloom looked knowingly at him and then at her employer who had already succumbed, his face completely relaxed and his mouth open a trifle.

She pulled Jack back up to his feet and herded him through to the guest chamber and turned back the covers, telling him to pop in like a good lad now and be quick about it as soon as he put on a spare nightshirt of the Commodore's. Jack did not have the energy left to argue with her and the pillows looked so inviting that he let his sheet fall as she held the voluminous garment ready to drop over his head. He crawled under the sheet and she tucked the coverlets up around him, giving his shoulder a soft pat but he was snuggled into the soft pillows and already deep seas under. Mrs. Bloom left him to his rest, quietly shutting the door behind her, and left her two charges in peace. They were both good lads but needed a woman to look after them and keep them in their places.

_For more about Mrs. Bloom and her pet pirate,_

_see the later story __Special Delivery._


	14. Epilogue

**Epilogue. Bird Bath** (for Elsa)

It had taken very little time for Mrs. Bloom to organize the household to prepare a bath for their unexpected visitor. She had taken precautions, of course, accustomed to dealing with recalcitrant lads when hers were growing up. Jack had been commanded to stay with the Commodore, keeping the invalid entertained, and to stay out of sight at the windows while he did so or else she would know the reason why. She had brought up a tray of savoury and sweet foods for Sparrow and a tray of lighter fare for the man abed recovering from his injuries. Lads were usually easy to bribe with food and she watched in satisfaction as the delightful aromas made both her charges take notice to the exclusion of other goings on in the house.

"Here, you pirate, make yourself useful and help Mister James to sit up whilst I rearrange his pillows. It's time he was sitting up now anyway, seeing as how he is healing. Once you've done that, then you will change into the robe I've laid out for you in the dressing room yonder. Those clothes of yours will be cleaned and tidied up for you as I can see they are sorely in need of attention. Just leave them in there for the time being, I'll fetch them shortly."

James was delighted with the stunned look that appeared on Jack's face as the man was ordered about with ruthless and relentless efficiency but knew better than to interfere or offer sympathy to the victim. Usually it was the Commodore who retreated before the tyrant of the household. It was very nice to see some other unfortunate take the brunt of Mrs. Bloom's attention. When Jack turned to stare at James in horrified dismay, it was all the latter could do to keep a straight sympathetic face.

"You mean to tell me that _this _is what always goes on in your house, James? I had no idea how under the cat's paw you really were; small wonder that you are the way you are up at your little fort."

James noticed that Jack was very careful to keep his voice down so that the housekeeper did not catch what was said. He could have told Jack that it would not have made any difference, Mrs. B. always seemed to know what was said or done in the house no matter where she happened to be. He had grown accustomed to her prescience and no longer gave it a thought as the little woman had proven her faithfulness and worth years since.

"It's far simpler to do as she commands, Jack, and then you can enjoy the tray she's brought up for you. She must approve of you, God knows why, seeing the treats that you get to indulge in. I'm just starting to get something more than beef tea only now. I cannot tell you how much I loathe the stuff but I know my limits with regard to my guardian."

"Beef tea? I'd forgotten such stuff exists. At least, what she's brought up for me looks a treat, smells wonderful, too."

Jack made to sit down at the little table that had been drawn up alongside Norrington's bed but the Commodore stopped him with a reminder.

"Jack, you know what your orders are. Now go along into my dressing room and do as you were told. There should be a silk robe there that is gaudy enough for even your tastes."

Jack glared at the invalid but to no avail. James was completely impervious to the nasty stare; to be expected, considering all the little lads in blue and red he ordered about all day long. In high dudgeon and pouting like a thwarted five year old, he stalked over to the chest of drawers beside the window and began to divest himself of things that should not be subjected to a laundress's care, beginning with his sword and baldric, the pistol in its holster, the compass, and sundry items from his capacious pockets. James was amused by the performance and quite intrigued by the variety and amounts of stuff to be found on or about Jack's person.

"I think you were misnamed, Jack. From what I can see piling up over there, Jackdaw would be more suitable than Sparrow for a name although it would be a trifle ridiculous. Can hardly imagine you boasting of being "Captain Jack Jackdaw," I must say. It doesn't flow well at all."

Jack looked over to where James was propped up, pleased to see the man looking more himself, however the insult could not be allowed to pass unnoticed.

"Well, I don't know about yourself, Jamie-lad, but when I go about a place, I like to have the essentials with me. Never know when they might be needed and I don't always have time to go back to the Pearl and fetch them."

"I believe we have rather different notions of what constitutes essential, Jack."

"I had to make do for a lot of years and most of that time relied on what I could carry with me. You'd be amazed at what I found to be useful in a pinch."

"Consider me amazed then. Ah, Jack, you might want to hurry it up and be divested of your clothing and into my robe before she comes back. Mrs. B. raised three fine strapping sons all bigger than I am and they, and her husband, all jump smartly to do her bidding. I cannot see that one little pirate is going to stand much chance and if you are not done when she gets here, she will take it upon herself to strip you where you stand."

"She wouldn't!"

"She most certainly would."

James really could not be blamed for the smug look that crept over his face as he teased his visitor. The crowning touch came when they heard footsteps in the hallway outside the bedchamber followed by a short rap. His eyes stretched wide in fright, Jack fled in a panic to the relative safety of the dressing room, quickly locking the door behind him. James had no intention of mentioning the door on the other side of the small room that accessed the bathing chamber. When his own door opened, Mrs. B. entered and, not seeing the pirate, glanced to her charge in enquiry. James simply pointed to the door in question and mimed Jack locking it, not hesitating one instant to tattle on his uninvited guest.

"Well, the lad's nought to fear for a while just yet. I've brought up some nice towels and wanted to ask him what he would like to have for the mid-day meal. I'm ever so sorry, sir, but the doctor said that you are to be on light meals only until he gives leave for something more substantial. I'll go along now to fetch his clothes to go down to the scullery for cleaning."

As she spoke, Mrs. Bloom simply went back into the hall and around through the bathing room to corner the pirate in the dressing area, more a passageway than a room. James smiled in satisfaction as he heard a loud squawk of incensed protest from Sparrow and then the sounds of a bit of a tussle accompanied by strident protestations. He hoped Jack would be careful and not use foul language around Mrs. B. as she had a fast hand with the soap and no known reluctance in the washing out of mouths she deemed in need of reminding. He was reasonably certain that the pirate would not actually harm his housekeeper; for all his faults, Jack was actually something of a gentleman.

The key turning in the lock drew his attention and the door opened to reveal a half-naked Sparrow clutching in desperation at his breeches, one boot off, attempting to ward off his attacker with his free hand.

"No! No! Not good! Not good! You really don't want to be doing this!"

"Yes, she does, Sparrow. There's no escape for you now and you thought _I_ was the ruthless one." James had to add his tuppence worth to the battleground before him.

"Now do stop acting so childishly, you are a grown man and should behave as one. Those dirty breeches are coming off so they can be laundered and you can have your nice bath."

Sparrow retreated backwards into Norrington's room and tripped over the thick Oriental rug that lay there, landing heavily on his back with a thud and an expulsion of breath, throwing out his arms to break his fall. Regrettably, this meant his tenuous grip on his breeches failed and Mrs. Bloom rapidly and inexorably shucked the Sparrow of the last of his garments and marched back to retrieve the rest before she returned to her lair below stairs, leaving Jack in the middle of the floor as naked as the day he was born, panting in speechless outrage.

"Put that nice silk robe on now, before you catch your death of cold. This is a decent house and I won't have dratted hairy pirates parading around here in their altogether."

The housekeeper's voice faded as she went about her business. Jack sat up and stared as her skirts disappeared around the far door, still shocked at the turn of events. He was accustomed to being slapped, certainly, but not assaulted in such an insensitive manner. A distinct giggle caught his attention and Jack twisted around to stare venomously at James who had succumbed to near hysterics. For someone who was supposed to be feared by all the Brethren in the Caribbean, Norrington could certainly giggle (and it was _not_ a laugh) with the best of them. Shocking, that was.

"What do you think you're doing, laughing like that at a guest in your house? You are a disgrace to the Royal Navy, you are. What would your little officers think if they could see you acting like this? You should be ashamed of yourself, Commodore Norrington."

Jack's expression of insulted dignity was enough to send James into howls of laughter, at least until his ribs reminded him that that was really not a good idea. He tried to compose himself and put a serious, concerned face on as he made to answer Jack. A snicker escaped despite his best intentions, setting him off again.

"I really did try to warn you, Jack. You just weren't taking me seriously, that's all."

Sparrow frowned and opened his mouth to make a nasty retort but Norrington interrupted, thoughtfully reminding him that Mrs. B. would not be gone for long and that it would really be a good idea to fetch that robe. Jack looked frightened for an instant then bolted to his feet and scampered to get covered before the dragon returned, entertaining James mightily. Jack had quite an assortment of tattoos scattered around his body in addition to a number of scars, perhaps he could be persuaded to talk about some of them at some time. The robe did not really help matters as it was too long for the shorter man and the hem trailed a bit behind him as he wrapped it around his narrow waist and tied it snugly.

Jack held out his arms to admire the colourful fabric, rather surprised to find something so fanciful in Norrington's possession. He stroked along the sleeves and down the front of the robe, liking the luxurious feel of the silk as well as its bright greens and blues. He swaggered over to take his seat by the breakfast table, flipping out the linen napkin with extravagant flair and laying it over his lap. Jack was hungry and the selection on the tray was drawing his undivided attention; sniggering Commodores could wait whilst he attended to his meal.

"I don't know what you're going on about, I'm the one who gets to eat real food, not that milksop gruel you've been given."

Jack was pleased to see Norrington's face fall at the reminder. With hostilities suspended for the moment, the two men ate in peace. Jack enjoyed the finest meal he had had in ages, clearing every scrap of the substantial dishes the housekeeper had brought up for him. He peered into the last bowl and contemplated licking the last few traces but decided against it; his host would certainly notice and make rude comments but the housekeeper had already promised another meal later. James slowly ate the gruel and milk custard that were his fare, knowing that he really was not ready for heavier foods yet. It was not that much of a hardship as he usually ate sparingly, unlike most of his counterparts, part of the adaptation he had made to the climate and the better for it.

As the men finished, Jack carefully blotted his lips on the napkin and neatly laid it aside by his plate. Norrington had watched the table manners on display and wondered again where Jack had come from but that was a mystery for another time. For now, he was content with the company and the accord they seemed to have arrived at. James mentioned that Jack might want to take out some of the baubles in his hair, if that was possible, as he was certain that Mrs. B. would insist on the hair being washed.

Jack looked a bit blank and then reached up to his hair to pass his hand over the beads and keepsakes reminiscently, his eyes drifting out to the horizon visible through the open window. Gently, he removed his faded red head scarf and folded it neatly, laying it beside James with a request to keep it safe, please. The long stingray spine he released, as well as several strands of trinkets that had been braided into his hair, placing them on top of the scarf. The others would not come out so easily and he decided to leave them where they were for the time being. He had no idea what the housekeeper had in mind for him but hoped she would be careful of the things he held dear.

James might have laughed but he observed the gentle precision Jack's hands had for the gaudy ornaments and knew that the ornaments held strong memories for the exotic man. With an innate decency, Norrington would respect the other man's sensitivities and his privacy regarding them. Jack looked up and met James' eyes, seeing the understanding the other had come to. He quietly thanked him for that. For a moment, the pair looked at each other, realizing how far they had come since their first meeting.

Fortunately, before they could become overly sentimental or maudlin, Mrs. Bloom returned to the bathing room with the maid and lad behind her hauling the buckets of hot water up to the tub. The two men turned to watch the tub being set up, the pirate sighing in resignation, showing more unrest than he had at his attempted hanging.

"You'll enjoy it, Jack, it's quite a nice tub. I should know. There are some nice salts and oils there as well that you might enjoy. Feel free to choose whatever takes your fancy. I know you're still hurting from our little adventure and climbing up here last night had to have hurt, not to mention falling asleep the way you did. At least I can offer you some hospitality."

"Thank you, James. When you put it that way, it's not so bad an idea. It's just how yon female went about it that's so upsetting; small wonder your little officers are terrorized by her."

"They're not the only ones. I really don't know what you're worrying about, Jack, you've already made your conquest of her and she's all but adopted you even after such short acquaintance. Trust me, she wouldn't do this for most, especially not scruffy pirates who come calling unannounced in the middle of the night."

"Conquered her, you say? Hmm. This might work out after all."

Mrs. Bloom arranged the tub to her satisfaction and sent her assistants away below stairs, reminding them sternly to watch their mouths lest anything about their visitor slipped out. She then marched back into the Commodore's room and told Jack that his bath was ready and he was to come along now and not to let the water get cold. He did as she ordered and meekly went over to the tub, fervently praying she would go away and let him bathe in privacy; there were some females he would gladly have shared his bath with but the formidable housekeeper was definitely not of that persuasion.

"James said there were some salts and oils I could choose from. Do you know where they might be?"

Jack accompanied the request with his second-best begging face. She looked at him as if he was an idiot, of course she knew where they were. She opened a paneled door and one shelf was full of bathing accoutrements, including the offered items. Jack picked up several before deciding on something with fine English lavender in it, reminding him of places and people far away in his past. An odd thing, memory, he thought to himself, to be linked so strongly to smells.

She poured a goodly amount of the salts into the water and stirred it around well, before telling Jack to take the robe off and get in. She kindly turned her back on him and said she would wait until he was decently in the water. He looked taken aback at the idea but knew he would have to comply.

"Now, you're certain you won't turn around. I am a very shy person, you understand."

"Shy, is it? I would have said it was something else entirely. I wouldn't expect the likes of you to have a shy bone in his body."

Jack stuck his foot in the water, wincing a bit at the heat but brought the other foot in to join the first. As he became accustomed to the heat, he sat down in the tub, holding on to the tall sides to lower himself in slowly, hissing and catching his breath as the near scalding water crept up his body. He had some fears for the wedding tackle but he protectively kept his legs together until he acclimated to the heat. Once all the way in, he caught his breath and let it out in a long slow sigh of relief and turned to Mrs. Bloom who had indeed kept her word and still stood with her back to him.

"Alright, I'm in now. You are allowed to turn around."

"Well, that's looking better already. You soak there for a few minutes and then I'll be back to scrub your back and help you wash your hair."

As Jack opened his mouth to protest the assistance, she merely stared him down and he shut his mouth and sat back obedient and quiet. She had his number now and would make certain of his compliance, at least as it affected this house. Satisfied Jack had been sufficiently put in his place and would do as he had been told, she went through to Norrington's room to retrieve the now empty dishes and take them back downstairs with her. James looked up at her and they smiled smugly at each other.

"I knew you could do it, Mrs. B., he's no match for you."

"Of course not, just another lad in need of someone to care for him."

"There are those who would disagree with you on that score, my dear."

"I know, but this is here and now and that's what I have to work with. I understand that people have different faces for wherever they are; you do yourself, Mister James."

"True. Jack was injured recently and has not fully healed. Be careful of him and those ornaments in his hair; they are important to him."

"Of course, sir, he's a right scamp but a charmer for all that. We'll just have to take care and keep him safe, seeing as how he's still a known pirate."

"I'm working on finalising that last part, given his recent assistance to the Crown. Hopefully, I will soon no longer be constrained to hang him."

The housekeeper nodded in agreement and picked up the tray and left. It did not take long until Norrington heard singing coming from the area of his bath tub. Jack apparently had decided to approve the demand for cleanliness and was splashing about quite happily for a short time and then silence fell. James could see the tub from where he lay and suspected Jack was dozing in the hot water, something he was himself prone to do when fatigued. Before he could get too worried, Mrs. Bloom returned and went over to the tub, gently waking the sleeper before he could drown.

She pushed Jack forward, exposing his back and she lathered up the sponge with a fine soap and scrubbed the lean body with long swirling strokes, careful to wash gently over the bruises and scabbed cuts. From the flinches, she would not be surprised to find there were some cracked ribs in the mix to boot, causing her to wonder just how he had managed to climb up to the Commodore's window but she kept her peace. Rinsing his back she then did his arms, not commenting on the pain and hurt the scars and brand represented, just hummed soothingly as she soaped and rinsed. The hands she held up for closer inspection, tsking a bit at their state before taking up the soft bristle brush and carefully but thoroughly scrubbing the nails and knuckles until she was satisfied, despite the squirms and yowls. She did his chest with a quick impersonal efficiency, doing her best not to disturb the old musket wounds or the new gouges in his tanned skin. Mrs. Bloom held Jack's chin by the convenient beard braids, not allowing him to wiggle away from her as she carefully washed his face.

"Close your eyes, now, pet, there's a love. Don't want to get them full of soap, do we?"

Jack made as if to answer her.

"And keep that cheeky mouth closed too, even fine soap such as this doesn't taste as good as it smells."

The soapy sponge swept over his face and he kept both his eyes and his mouth shut tight in defence. The grip she had on his beard was not overly tight but was sufficient to keep him under control. The sponge was taken away and then returned with fresh water to rinse the soap suds from his skin.

"Once your hair is done, then you can wash the rest of you, seeing as how you're such a shy, modest wee thing. Be sure you do a proper job of it, too, else I'll take care of that as well."

The horrified stare he turned on her lacked a bit of its usual flair, seeing as how the remnants of kohl had been removed, along with much of the grime he had arrived with. Giving him no time to gather himself for a protest, the housekeeper moved swiftly, pouring several dippers of water over his head before reaching for the soft soap she had prepared for the task. The wild mane would look and feel ever so much nicer once it was cleaned and had at least an attempt at brushing it though Heaven alone knew the last time the long hair had had such attention. She had suspicions regarding possible vermin but she would do her best. The soap she worked into the strands, being very careful not to damage the beaded bits; although curious about what they represented, Mrs. Bloom decided that for the time being she would not trouble her new charge for the details. She had a feeling that there were memories attached to each thing and that some were close to the boy's heart.

"The soap will have to do for now but next time, I'll make up a nice egg shampoo which should do wonders for your hair. Yes, indeed, and a nice rosemary and lavender rinse after a vinegar drench will finish the job nicely, I shouldn't wonder. At least you have a good head of hair to your name, lad, unlike some hereabouts I could name, should I be of that sort of nature." Mrs. Bloom was completely oblivious to the look of renewed fright on her latest charge's face.

Norrington had been observing as best he could from where he lay propped up in his bed and the sight of the pirate nuisance being scrubbed down by his housekeeper was one he would treasure for some time to come. He considered himself to be privileged to have been present at the "_Bathing of Captain Jack Sparrow"_ and was completely prepared to use ruthlessly the information if ever he needed to one-up Jack. The man truly did look pathetic, especially at the moment, with all the soap suds piled into the sodden mane of tangled hair but James knew Jack was in no danger, aside from embarrassment. He calculated that it would not take Jack too long to enjoy the sensation of being cared for, the hot bath and fancy salts as well as clean clothes; after all, the pirate was a hedonist when circumstances permitted.

Norrington let his thoughts drift away from the spectacle as Jack was allowed to wash his nether regions while Mrs. B. tidied up the bathing area. When he was finished, she picked up the bucket of nice clean water that she had kept in reserve and proceeded to sluice it over the hair as a final rinse. Once done, she held up a large white sheet to preserve the scoundrel's modesty as she told him to hop up and get wrapped up quickly before he caught a chill, although James was not certain how Jack could catch cold, given the heat that was beginning to build as the day progressed. In no time, Jack was thoroughly enveloped with only his toes and his head left uncovered and Mrs. Bloom popped a towel over the hair as quick as could be. Privately James thought it looked a bit like a shroud but he was not going to mention that particular observation.

Jack was shooed out of the bathing room and back into Norrington's chamber and made to sit down on a stool with his back to the window for better light. James caught Jack's attention with his eyes, an expression of superior Commodorial smugness clearly showing. Jack snarled silently at him but the effort was wasted as the clean face and swaddling totally cancelled out the effect. James snidely raised his brows back at Jack, daring the other to make an issue of it with the housekeeper but a step away. A fast glance to the side and all Jack could do was make a face at James, lifting his lip in a sneer, before Mrs. Bloom returned with her implements of torture.

She placed the items on the table between Jack and James before pulling off the towel she had put on Jack's head to catch the drips. She spread his hair out over his shoulders and inspected each section, planning her campaign to restore the rat's nest to something approaching order. Making her decision, she picked up a wide comb and began to work out the tangled snarls, occasionally reaching for a fine lightly scented oil to ease the strands. The winces and mutterings of pain and insult she ignored, knowing she was not doing all that much damage to her newly adopted pirate. The work had to be done and it served him right for not taking proper care of himself for goodness knew how long. From time to time she had to resort to her scissors to take out an impossibly snarled bit but mostly she was able to pick through the mess to restore order amidst chaos.

When she was finished the initial currying, she neatly trimmed the ends and then put a bit of the lavender scented oil on her hands and worked it through the hair, massaging the scalp and dressing the hair to restore its softness and sheen. This part Jack was all in favour of, it felt so much better than when she was tugging and yanking at his scalp; combined with the hot bath it was enough to have him almost purring as he drifted closer to sleep. Mrs. Bloom looked knowingly at him and then at her employer who had already succumbed, his face completely relaxed and his mouth open a trifle.

She pulled Jack back up to his feet and herded him through to the guest chamber and turned back the covers, telling him to pop in like a good lad now and be quick about it as soon as he put on a spare nightshirt of the Commodore's. Jack did not have the energy left to argue with her and the pillows looked so inviting that he let his sheet fall as she held the voluminous garment ready to drop over his head. He crawled under the sheet and she tucked the coverlets up around him, giving his shoulder a soft pat but he was snuggled into the soft pillows and already deep seas under. Mrs. Bloom left him to his rest, quietly shutting the door behind her, and left her two charges in peace. They were both good lads but needed a woman to look after them and keep them in their places.

_For more about Mrs. Bloom and her pet pirate,_

_see the later story __Special Delivery._


End file.
